AN: Thanks for reading!


Chapter 2: Flirting
Bella's POV


December 24 | Evening

A Christmas dinner was in order.

I hadn't been spending enough time with Charlie, my father – that much was clear. Of course, it wasn't anybody's fault; he'd been busy with his work and I'd been busy with mine and some of the over–the–holidays work the teachers I despised had assigned to us. Yet, the guilt had been eating me from inside, so I decided that I could cook an elaborate meal. Neither of us were pros at expressing our feelings to each other (or anybody else, as a matter of fact) so I figured this would acceptable.

After all, Christmas was a time for family – however inadequate said family was.

I had finally decided on fish 'n' chips since Charlie loved fish more than anything in this world. I stood in the Fresh Foods aisle, debating between cod and haddock when a somebody suddenly spoke into my left ear, hot breath fanning across the exposed, bare skin of my neck.

"Excuse me," A low, velvety voice murmured. "I just wanted to know if you're as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside?"

Completely taken off guard, I let out a tiny shriek and the fish packages slipped out my hands and into the open–freezer below. I whirled around in surprise and found myself staring into a very familiar pair of green eyes.

Holy. Crap.

It was the same Adonis from the bookstore I'd met only two days ago.

The only reason his emerald orbs were so familiar was because I'd been unintentionally seeing them so often in my dreams and intentionally fantasizing about them ever since I'd . . . met him. Speaking of eyes, they were staring so keenly into my eyes that I felt my cheeks burn automatically; damn, he knew that I recognized him. It took me a few seconds to actually process what he had said, and when I did, I flushed darker.

What? Beautiful? Was he for real?

He must have found my dumbfounded expression incredibly amusing for he let out a little chuckle and stepped back from my personal bubble (not that I terribly minded if he didn't), allowing me to gulp in plenty of oxygen.

"O–Oh," I stuttered, sounding like a complete moron – my brain seemed to have been working at an extremely slow pace. "Er . . . sorry?"

His grin widened, causing his eyes to twinkle . He wasn't pushing any cart, but there was a basket by his feet, already overflowing with groceries.

"I thought happiness starts with an "H"," He continued, as I gaped at him like I was mentally retarded, quite aware that my face must have been resembling a fish. "So, why does mine start with "U"?

My heartbeat sped up, faltered, then died. Did he just use a pickup line on me? How utterly humiliating! It was obviously all a joke; he couldn't possibly be sincere about what he was saying. He was so good–looking and purely attractive and I was just . . . well, me. Besides, the attractive ones were always the terrible flirts (not that I was anything flirt–worthy, of course) – the ones who had dated many girls (and broken their hearts right after) in the past, and slept with a good chunk of them. I didn't even know this guy's name or anything else about him. How old was he? He could be a pedophile or a stalker, for all I was aware of.

So then why exactly wasn't I running away? Mike Newton – an immature blond who had developed an unhealthy infatuation with me ever since my first day at school – was also quite good–looking, popular and well–liked by everybody. But I found him incredibly annoying; he got on my nerves because he talked too much nonsense and had nothing in common with me . . . But what was the deal with this guy? I was certain that I just wasn't letting him stick around because he was attractive – I wasn't shallow, that was for sure – but there had to be something about him that appealed to me . . .

He must have decided that I wasn't freaking out (even though I was – internally) or running away (though I had a sneaking impulse to do so), for he smiled radiantly.

"I was wondering if you had an extra heart," He mused, his smirk growing with each word. His eyes never strayed from my own, though I was finding it a bit difficult to meet his. "Mine seems to have been stolen."

How long was he going to keep this up? Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered what other people must have been thinking about this little love, er, yuck–fest in the middle of a grocery store.

I still couldn't speak an intelligible word, despite the fact that I incredibly bright in English class. I was too stunned at seeing him again, seeing his obviously gorgeous features, and listening to him and his pickup lines. My eyes were so wide that I expected them to bug out any second now.

Starting intently into said eyes, he proceeded with, "Was your father a thief? 'Cause someone stole the stars from the sky and put them in your eyes."

I lowered my gaze from his immediately, knowing I would never be able to talk to him while making eye contact. A smile was threatening to erupt on my face, but I tried my best to keep my expression deadpan. Damn, this guy was making me blush like hell – I'd never blushed for so long and continuously in such a short period of time – but I wasn't going to let him get away with this without a fight.

"No, actually," I replied, smirking. "Quite the opposite, really. He's a cop."

I supposed he must have incredibly surprised with not only the fact that I had responded to him (in English) for the first time since he'd gotten here but also the answer I gave him. His eyes grew wide. Alarmed, at first, but then they shifted to delight and he laughed gently. "Are you serious?"

I nodded, smiling shyly as I turned back to the fish and picked up a random packet, tossing it into my cart. As much as I hated it, the shopping adventure needed to come to an end so that I could get going. I side–stepped him easily and headed for the kitchen supplies aisle. Without a moment's pause, he lifted up his basket and began to follow me.

"If a fat man puts you in a bag tonight," I heard him say from behind me. "Don't be scared because I told Santa I wanted you for Christmas."

Amusement bubbled up inside of me and my laughter rang out in the empty aisle, before I could quite stop it, and his smile broadened. The idea of anybody wanting me was ludicrous, but I did not voice my opinions. Instead, I teased him, "You still believe in Santa? Such a kid; come talk to me when you become an adult."

His smile faded, only minutely. Shit, he realized that I was taking him up on his challenge. With all seriousness etched onto his features, he fired off another one, his green eyes glowing. "Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?"

"Well, of course I believe in love at first sight," I retaliated, feeling my chest about to burst. Could my grin get any wider? "Ooh, but could you do me a favor and ask him to walk by."

Tauntingly, I pointed over his shoulder at the non–existent male, but he didn't even bother to turn around and look, keeping his stare locked on me. Instead, his eyes narrowed and turned smoldering. "If I had a garden, I'd put your tulips and my tulips together."

Heat creeped up my neck and my face got redder just at the idea of kissing him. My imagination was already zooming into overdrive and if he didn't stop this soon, my cheeks were going to be stained red permanently. "Sorry, but I've never been into Mother Nature."

"Where have you been all my life?"

"Hiding – with a good reason."

"Is it just me or are you the brightest shining star out here?"

"Nah, it's just you."

Our playful banter continued for about fifteen minutes before I remembered again that I needed to leave. I regretfully told him so, and I swore I could see a hint of disappointment flash in his eyes, before they brightened up again.

"So, Isabella," he began casually. "Do you work at the bookstore everyday?"

"Bella," I corrected him automatically, even as I frowned suspiciously at the random question. "And no, not on Tuesdays or Thursdays or Christmas."

He smiled. "Of course not," He agreed. "No one should be working on Christmas – which reminds me! I'm inviting you over to my house tomorrow. I'll pick you up, of course. My parents are hosting a big dinner for family and friends and I would be incredibly honored if you came. It's at eight o'clock. Don't be busy. And I'll need your number to call you later to confirm your directions."

I stared at him with my mouth hanging open. "Excuse me?" His grin faded at my expression and his own turned a little panicked. "Did you just invite me to your house for a family dinner? Why?"

"Er," He scratched the back of his neck, appearing slightly embarrassed, as his ears tinged red. "Because you're my friend, and I'd appreciate it if you were there. I'd like to get to know you better."

"Better?" I repeated incredulously. "Friend? You don't know anything about me. I just met you yesterday and that was for like five minutes. And I know nothing about you! Your name? Your age? Where do you live? Are you stalking me? Why did you just randomly start using pickup lines on me? Why –"

"Oh, well," He flashed a brilliant, crooked smile in my direction, seeming relieved. How could he look like that? I was going berserk over here! "That's easy. My name's Edward Cullen, formerly Edward Masen before I was adopted. I'm seventeen, a junior at Port Angeles High School. I live in, well, it's kind of hard to explain, but you'll see my house anyway when I bring you there tomorrow. I'm not a stalker, I can assure you. It was just a pleasant coincidence that I spotted you here. I started using pickup lines on you, which I genuinely meant, because I think you're the most beautiful girl in the world. And also the fact that I haven't been able to get you off of my mind ever since you quoted Wuthering Heights for me the other day. I want us to exchange phone numbers – that way I can call you to ask the million questions I have because I'm dying to know more about you. So I ask you again, Bella – will you join me for my family's Christmas dinner tomorrow?"