AN: I'm so excited at the awesome positive response for chapter 1! Here's chapter two (of four total, in case you were wondering). Lyrics are from Muse, the song "Undisclosed Desires."

Thanks to Trinity for the beta and to chloe9 for purchasing me in the Support Stacie Auction and requesting this story :)

"Soothing, I'll make you feel pure;

Trust me, you can be sure."

BPOV

Edward Cullen was just plain creepy.

The first time I'd seen him—in the cafeteria, when our eyes had met briefly, and I'd been so embarrassed he'd caught me staring—I'd understood instaneously why both Jessica and Lauren had been so eager to dish on him. He was undeniably gorgeous, with a mysterious aloof beauty that females of every age no doubt ate up. But, after his strange behavior in Biology, I wasn't sure what to make of him at all. After his odd interruption, he'd returned, so quickly it was obvious he'd been lying about being sick, and had proceeded to stare at me for the rest of the period—like I held the cure for cancer, or something.

I'd been half-tempted to look right up into those weird gold eyes and tell him that his attention was clearly misplaced; I wanted nothing to do with him. At least, that was what I told myself. There was no use in being hot if you were clearly socially deficient.

He'd stared intently, until it seemed as if he was literally counting the hairs on my head or the pores in my skin. Such close supervision was not only disturbing, it was totally unwelcome. I was used to flying under the radar and I liked it that way. Starting school at Forks High had come with enough unwanted attention; Edward Cullen was the straw that broke the camel's back.

So that night, as Charlie and I sat at our regular table at the diner, I broached the subject to him. The kids at school had seemed so in awe of the Cullen family; I wanted to know if I was the only one who found their aloofness weirdly disturbing.

It turned out that yes, I was the only one.

"The Cullens?" Charlie said, between bites of meatloaf and mashed potatoes. "What about them?"

"Well, you know, are they ever in trouble?" I asked casually, pushing a fry into the mound of ketchup on my plate.

Charlie shook his head. "Never. Not a speck. Those Cullens are good kids. And their dad is Dr. Cullen, who works at the hospital. A big fancy, city doctor." Charlie's voice had the exact same kind of awe that Lauren and Jessica and Mike and Eric had when they spoke of the Cullens. It appeared that I was the only one who found them pretty damn weird.

"Why do you ask?" Charlie said, his gaze narrowing. "Did they make trouble for you?"

I hesitated. On one hand, I desperately wanted to confide my suspicions about Edward in someone, but I had a strong feeling that anything I would say would get immediately dismissed. After all, he really hadn't done anything. Yet, anyway. So I shook my head, and went back to my gardenburger.

Charlie started rattling off about some wild animal who had killed a man up at the power plant, and I spaced off, staring into space while I only pretended to listen.

Tuesday morning dawned and even though Biology was after lunch, I was already dreading it. Hopefully, Edward would just leave me alone.

Except, standing just inside the door, clearly expecting me, was the man himself.

"Good morning, my name is Edward Cullen; you must be Isabella. It's lovely to meet you," he said courteously, crossing to me and taking my books from my arms before I could even open my mouth to tell him off.

"What do you think you're doing?" I spluttered, my annoyance growing. Naturally, he was stuck up with a huge ego and would just assume that I wanted him to carry my books. Or that I wanted him around at all, which I didn't.

And what kind of a weirdo carried a girl's books to class anyway? Had we time-traveled and somehow I'd missed it?

I decided to ask him.

"What, are you a fan of historical literature? Bronte? Austen?" We were walking down the hallway, and if I wasn't totally mistaken, we were definitely being stared at. I supposed I shouldn't be surprised. After all, Jessica had said that Edward hadn't ever been interested in a girl from around here. I was the first—if he was even interested in me. But then, there didn't seem to be another explanation for this sudden behavioral reverse.

"I do enjoy those authors; though my sister Alice and my mother Esme are more partial than I." He spoke cautiously, with a strangely stilted formality that confused the hell out of me. Though, I had to add, it only added fuel to the fire of my curiosity. There was definitely something up with Edward and his family, and I was beginning to think it was going to be up to me to figure out what it was.

"What do you enjoy reading?" I turned the question neatly back to him, expecting to see him fumble and drop the ball because of the experience he supposedly didn't have with the opposite sex.

"I enjoy non-fiction. Historical biographies, typically. Occasionally, Shakespeare." Instead, however, Edward caught me off-guard by being suave, charming and incredibly self-assured; worst of all, those golden eyes didn't seem quite as weird as they had only the day before.

"I like Shakespeare too," I mumbled, my face flushing bright, traffic light red—suddenly and completely embarrassed that this beautiful boy was paying attention to me. Because he definitely was, and now that it was no longer just an amusing game, I was fumbling and gauche. Like always.

I was usually cool and detached and uncaring until someone showed a genuine, real interest, and then I tended to fall on my face. Unfortunately, Edward did actually seem genuinely intrigued by me.

"What else do you enjoy?" His voice was disgustingly polite as we navigated through the halls that I felt my throat almost closing over. I briefly considered saying something awful to him, just so he'd leave me to my socially awkward misery, but I didn't know if I could even get an insult out.

"Austen. Bronte. Hawthorne." I settled for last names, not sure if I could have manage any more than that, and luckily for me, we'd reached my first class. I wasn't sure if I should be relieved that we'd reached our destination or creeped out that Edward had known which room History was held in.

"This has been lovely, Isabella," Edward said politely, opening the door to my classroom with one hand and gently passing me my books with the other. "Have a wonderful day, and I look forward to seeing you in Biology."

Before I could even splutter that I would not look forward to seeing his creepy, stalker ass in Biology, he was gone, melted into the crowded hallway. I glanced into the sea of people, instinctively searching for his distinctive reddish-brown head before I even realized what I was doing. You don't care that he left, Bella, I ordered myself, he's nothing to you, just another annoying boy who you'll have to force to take no for an answer.

Still, Edward trailed through my thoughts most of my morning classes, surfacing always at the most inopportune moments, until by lunch, I was nearly ready to tell him off for being such a distraction.

Nearly.

I still wasn't sure I could put an actual sentence together now that he had showed such a marked interest. The pathological shyness I'd always felt around men, starting at the beginning of puberty, had bothered me at first, but by now, my junior year of high school, I'd come to terms with it. I wasn't really interested in love or romance, anyway, unlike so many of my contemporaries. Let Lauren and Jessica obsess over the Edward Cullens and the Mike Newtons of the world, I reasoned, I was going to do something bigger and brighter and much more ambitious. Love faded, this I knew from my own parent's long-dead marriage, but words, those were eternal.

I briefly considered not even going to the cafeteria and instead, camping out in the bathroom, hunched over my notebook, working out a neat bit of dialogue, but as much as the possibility of Edward approaching me was inherently terrifying, a tiny part of me hated the idea of altering my own schedule to avoid him. So I went to lunch as planned, sitting with Angela and Ben and Eric, hoping that nobody would actually talk to me.

It was funny, I reasoned, that I could say so much on paper, but so little out loud. It was as if faced with the idea of speaking, my normally-fertile mind would dry up completely, until only disjointed mumblings tumbled from my lips. The kids in Phoenix thought I was a cross between the Unabomber and an idiot savant. The constant black hoody I wore, regardless of Phoenix's sweltering temperatures, probably didn't do much to dispel either of those notions, but I had always been on the thin side and therefore had a tendency to be cold, even on the hottest day. In Forks, Washington, one of the coldest, rainiest locales in North America, a parka probably wouldn't have been enough—but I bore it because I'd made my choice.

As it happened, the sun broke just before lunch, and as I walked to the usual table, I was able to unzip my sweatshirt partially. I set my tray down, glancing down briefly at the unappetizing slop they called food, before finally letting my gaze drift to the Cullen table. But strangely, it was unoccupied.

Jessica must have seen the direction of my brief glance, because I heard her distinctive sniff from behind me. I turned and caught her in the act of sneering. Flustered, she sat down next to me, her face now re-arranged into a somewhat pleasanter expression.

"On sunny days, the Cullens always go outdoors... you know, with their parents. Hiking, camping, blah, blah, blah. So they're gone for the day."

"Really?" I found this exceedingly odd. The more I found out about the Cullens, the less inclined I was to think that they were at all like a normal family. I was becoming torn between wanting to avoid them (and Edward) completely and wanting to get closer, so I could figure out what it was exactly that made them so inherently different.

Jessica sent me a single, pitying glance from under her lashes. "I'm surprised Edward didn't tell you himself. You know, when he walked you to class this morning." I was sure it must have taken a monumental effort on her part, but the level of venom in her voice was much lower than I'd been anticipating.

But I'd spent much of third period devising a good excuse for why Edward Cullen had walked me to class—other than the obvious reason, that is. It was going to be bad enough to endure Edward's attention before he learned that I was absolutely not interested; having to endure Jessica and Lauren's catty bitchiness as well would be more than I could handle.

"We were discussing the English assignment," I said casually, as if this happened every day. "Romeo and Juliet."

As I'd suspected, the interest faded from Jessica's eyes, and she looked almost relieved at my revelation. No doubt the idea that Edward Cullen might be interested in me and not her had thrown the cosmic balance of her universe seriously out of whack.

Like Jessica had predicted, Edward was a no-show in Biology. I told myself that I was supremely relieved not to have to deal with him after all, but his absence when he'd so specifically promised he'd see me in class rankled. I decided I didn't like people who made promises that they didn't keep—whether I wanted them to keep the promise or not.

The next day, rain descended again on the Peninsula, and I half-expected to see Edward Cullen waiting, as he had the morning before, to walk me to class. I dreaded it, but I prepared myself regardless. But he wasn't there, and I breathed a silent sigh of relief when he wasn't there—but then Alice Cullen, his younger sister, was also absent, and as I walked into the cafeteria at lunch, it was obvious that the entire family was gone today. My relief faded into an irritable sense of unease. I didn't want to wait to settle this thing between Edward and I. I wanted to finish it now.

That evening, Charlie asked me to drive out to the reservation and drop off some tools that he'd borrowed from Billy, his old friend who lived out at La Push. It was raining again, in hard, relentless sheets, and by the time I set out, it was almost dark and the weather was only growing worse. I waited as long as I could to leave, imagining that Charlie would call any minute, telling me to forget about it since the road conditions were sure to worsen, but finally, I bundled up and trekked out to my old, beat up truck, deciding that it would be better to just to get the trip over with.

I drove even more cautiously than usual, even though the tires on my truck were new. The roads were slick and icy, the rain beginning to mix with sleet as I reached the highway that wound through the forest and led to the La Push reservation. But despite my defensive driving, as I took one particularly sharp corner, I felt my truck shudder and begin to skid, the tires screeching as they tried to grip the slippery pavement. In horrible slow motion, I saw the world whip around me in three hundred and sixty degrees, before I finally slid off the road and into a ditch.

With a trembling hand, I reached out to turn off the truck, and instantly the inside of my truck was silent—so silent that I could hear my short panting gasps for air in the cold, dark cabin, and the uneven pattern of my heartbeat.

I reached for my cell phone, which had slid off the seat and onto the floor during my skid off the road.

"Damn," I muttered, my voice unnaturally loud in the silence, as I realized that out here, in the middle of nowhere between La Push and Forks, I had no service.

I sat for a minute, trying to figure out what to do. Should I get out of the truck and figure out how bad of a situation I was in? Was there any way I could afford to stay inside? I glanced out the window, eyeing the sleet with trepidation, but I knew I didn't have a choice. I zipped up my coat as far as it would go, until the zipper was digging into the skin under my chin, and pulled my gloves and hat.

Feeling recklessly brave, if even for a moment, I wrenched open the door and gasped at the cold air as it hit me. I staggered out of the truck, and instantly almost slipped on the mud lining the ditch, before righting myself by grabbing onto the door handle and surveying the situation I'd found myself in.

It didn't look good. I didn't know much about how to get a truck out of a ditch, but from what I could see, I didn't think that gunning the engine would do much good. It seemed as if I was just going to have to abandon the truck, walk further up the road in the storm, until my cell phone could get service again. Then I'd call Billy and Jacob and get them to come pull me out.

My plan decided on, I opened the truck door and grabbed an extra blanket I kept in there for emergencies. It wouldn't do much to keep me warm, but it would keep the rain out, at least for a little while. My teeth were already chattering—with the cold or with just plain terror, I wasn't sure. Fishing my maglite out of the glovebox, I shut the truck door and climbed up out of the ditch.

I'd only taken a few steps before I heard it. The sound of an engine, tuned to an inch of its life and humming beautifully. I turned and squinted my eyes against the rain, pointing my tiny flashlight in the direction I'd just come from.

High beams cut through the gloom, and my breath caught in my throat as I saw a flash of silver, like one of the trout that Charlie liked to catch in the streams around Forks. Before I even had a good look at the car, I knew who it was. It was just my luck, I thought with rising panic, that it would be him who would catch me, out here alone, in the dark and the rain. Edward Cullen.

Any thoughts I'd had that he might not see me or might not stop evaporated when the Volvo came to a smooth, clean, effortless stop on the shoulder just behind my poor, stranded truck. I glanced at my cell phone; unfortunately it still read "no service." I slid it back into my pocket and looked back up to see Edward get out of his car, not even flinching at the driving rain that hit his bare head. He was dressed in only a wool pea coat, but he wasn't even shivering as he walked towards me, his expression concerned.

"Isabella, are you alright?" His voice carried over the rhythmic patter of the rain on the asphalt as he walked towards me, his stride casual, as if we weren't meeting on an abandoned stretch of highway in the middle of a rainstorm.

"I'm fine," I said, trying and failing to keep the annoyed edge out of my voice. Of all the people who had to drive by, it just had to be him. Desperately I wanted to tell him to leave, that I would take care of this on my own, without his interference—or help, as he'd probably call it—but I knew I needed him. And I hated that obligation.

"Do you need some help?" he asked, stopping in front of me.

If we'd met face-to-face in the high school hallway, under normal, regular circumstances, the challenge in his eyes would have sent me into stammering hell. Here, on the side of the road, in the godforsaken middle of nowhere, with sleet pouring down on me, I decided to hell with embarrassment.

"What do you think?" I asked snidely, as I gestured to my truck's current location in the ditch.

"I think you're in a bad situation." Edward seemed to have an endless reserve of polite patience, but mine was quickly shredding.

"You're very observant. Now what do you propose to do about it?"

"I'm assuming your phone doesn't work," Edward said and I nodded in response. "So that means it's up to us to get you out of the ditch."

"Up to you, you mean," I corrected him. "I'm not sure I can actually help."

"Oh, I think I'll be able to manage just fine," Edward said with what I thought might have been a hint of a smile on his face. "Pushing you out shouldn't be a problem."

I rolled my eyes. His certainty was certainly a symptom of a rather healthy ego. Edward took a step closer, and I was reminded, again, of how truly alone we were. The rain splattered off his white face, rivulets of water trickling down the features that looked as if they'd been carved from marble. He didn't even blink the water away, just stared at me, as if I'd just done something completely and totally unexpected.

"So that's the plan, then?" I asked impatiently, clenching my teeth together so they wouldn't chatter as I spoke. I couldn't ever remembering being so cold and wet and utterly miserable, but there was something in his expression, in those weirdly golden eyes, that warmed me, deep down somewhere I hadn't known could catch fire.

"Just get in the truck and hit the gas when I tell you to." He turned away abruptly, breaking eye contact, and working his way through the mud towards the back of the truck.

I opened the car door and started the engine. Thankfully it roared to life, and swearing under my breath at the necessity of communication, I cranked the window lever down. Rain fell into the cabin in sheets, but I didn't have the necessary energy left to care. All I wanted was to strip off my wet clothes and crawl into bed.

"Pedal!" Edward's voice echoed loudly and I jammed on the gas. I'd been sure that Edward wouldn't be able to get me out of the ditch, no matter how strong his wiry body looked, but to my surprise, it only took one shove from him, and I was suddenly sitting on the road, clear of the muddy pit, and Edward was there, leaning inside the driver's window.

"Well, you're free," he said, nonchalantly, as if he hadn't just performed a completely superhuman feat.

"How did you do that?" I spluttered, completely forgetting my manners in the midst of my confusion.

"You weren't that stuck," he said, still pleasantly, with the tiniest hint of a smile on his face. "It wasn't too difficult to push you out."

He leaned in a bit further, his elbows resting on the window ledge. "You'd better get going and change your clothes. You're pale. Freezing." Absentmindedly, he reached up and stroked my wet cheek, his fingers as cold as they looked, and I shivered, suddenly mesmerized by mysterious boy in front of me.

"Thank you," I whispered, the words rising out of my throat without thinking. There was no stutter, no embarrassment, no secret, hideous fear. I didn't understand Edward Cullen at all, but somehow, in this moment, he didn't frighten me as he should. And I knew, deep down, that he should.

I couldn't sleep that night, even after a hot shower, and wrapping myself in layers of blankets. I was finally warm, but my mind buzzed with questions. What was Edward? How was that he'd pushed my hopelessly stuck truck so easily? It would have normally taken several men to extricate it—of that I was sure. And why hadn't I been afraid of him, the instant he showed his true colors?

The next day, I expected to see him waiting for me near the entrance as he'd done before, but he didn't show. I tried to tell myself that I was relieved, but I knew I wasn't. Instead, I was puzzled and maybe even a little disappointed. Edward was fascinating.

I was waiting in line for my plastic-tasting ham sandwich at lunch when I heard a distinctive high, light voice sound behind me. Alice Cullen.

"Bella?" Alice sounded unsure, as if she wasn't sure I'd actually give her the time of day.

I turned to face her, feeling as inadequate as I'd ever felt in my whole life. Some of the girls in Phoenix had been spent all of their time and energy dressing and grooming themselves, making sure that every eye, both male and female, focused on them. Alice Cullen, on the other hand, drew everyone's gaze effortlessly. I hated fashion but I knew her outfit was flawless—as was Alice herself.

"Hello." I glanced down at the floor, scuffing the toe of my black converse on the dirty linoleum. Maybe if I didn't look at her, she'd go away. Of course, these techniques worked on guys, but I'd never had to try them on a girl before. Most females my age took one look at my shaggy hair, my black hoodies and jeans and left me alone with no effort on my part.

"I'm Alice Cullen." She'd shifted from uncertain to a sweet charm that disarmed me enough that I even managed to glance up. Weird. She had the same odd golden eyes as her brother, but hadn't Jessica told me that they were adopted siblings? Or was Alice actually Edward's brother? I couldn't remember the details.

"Nice to meet you," I mumbled. I wanted to ask her what the hell she wanted from me, even if it was obvious that she was here to talk to me about her brother, not to be friendly.

"Would you like to sit with me at lunch?" She gestured towards the slowly filling cafeteria.

"With you?" I asked suspiciously.

"Well," she amended with a tiny, tinkling laugh, "my family, actually."

I opened my mouth to tell her that no, thank you, the last thing I wanted to do was have lunch with her stalker of a brother, who I wouldn't be interested in if he was the last man on earth. Well, I thought, that wasn't exactly true. If I was able to actually converse with a man who was interested in me and who I was interested in, I would probably choose Edward Cullen. He was undeniably handsome, well-spoken, intelligent, and there was something about the way his eyes followed me that was distinctly unsettling in a good way.

But that changed nothing. I couldn't possibly have lunch with him, even if Alice and the rest of the Cullen clan was present. I would be a tongue-tied disaster, and would consequently feel so humiliated that I'd have to move back to Phoenix.

"Don't say no," Alice said, stopping me before I could say it myself. "You're going to say no—I can tell by the expression on your face. Do you not like Edward? Is it too soon?"

I looked into her eyes, those eyes that reminded me so much of Edward, and I hesitated. Suddenly, I wanted to tell her. Alice was warm, friendly, and strangely, non-threatening, despite the thousands of dollars of clothes she was undoubtedly wearing.

"I... I can't sit with your family," I stuttered, but plowed forward, determined to try to get the words out, "but I could sit with you."