It's just a ride, it's just a ride
Don't be scared
Don't hide your eyes
It may feel so real inside
But don't forget it's just a ride
--Jem, "Just a Ride"


"Sorry you aren't going to see any of London right now," Alice told me as she sped down the left side of the road. "We have to take a less scenic route to get home."

"How far away is your house from the city?" I asked, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt.

"It's only about ten minutes away. Less if you go at my speed," she said with a mischievous smile.

"Should I be scared?"

Alice laughed charmingly. "Not until the filth catches me. Besides, it's not like Esme's car can exactly haul arse," she told me. She had a very refined accent. "That is an American phrase, isn't it?"

It was my turn to laugh. "Sure, why not."

We made decreasingly awkward small talk as Alice drove through the incredibly beautiful countryside. The beautifully manicured bright green lawns were spread out in front of enormous houses, which were lined by trees and hedges. There were a few estates with massive ponds before them.

Alice finally turned onto a narrow, seemingly never-ending, loosely paved path in a heavily shaded forest. The lack of sunlight didn't help my current state of exhaustion, but at least Alice had slowed down from her ridiculously high speed. The road was bumpy, so every time my eyelids began to fall I was jolted awake by the car bouncing a bit roughly.

Alice must have sensed my fatigue, for she did not ask me any more polite questions about myself. It was alright, though, because the house was in sight soon enough.

The forest surrounded the landscape but we were now riding on a path in a clearing. Just like the other estates I had seen, an expanse of green grass surrounded the house. There were different kinds of trees, flowers, and shrubbery placed randomly through the field. A lovely white house sat in the middle of it all.

Slightly hidden behind dogwood trees was a classic, almost antique house. There was an abundance of windows, each framed by large white shutters. Even though they were the same color as the house, they seemed almost prominent against it. It appeared to be divided into three sections, the middle one farther back than the two at its sides. The brown-gray roof seemed to break the dull sky with its gently sloping shape and two chimneys. There were three protruding windows on the roof in between the chimneys.

As Alice steered the car down the road that ran down the side of the estate, appearing to lead to the garage, I was in awe of how beautiful—not to mention large—the house was. I made a hypothesis that the house was most likely inherited from older family members—no house like that was made within the last century.

"Before we head in, I just wanted to warn you that the house is shockingly quiet today," Alice warned, looking over to me with a smile. She had noticed my obvious ogling of the house.

"Might I ask why?" I chuckled.

"Mum and Dad are at work, Eddie's still in Switzerland skiing, and God only knows where Em is." She laughed again shortly. "I told them they could have the day off so I could pick you up… plus, I can tell you inevitably have jetlag and don't want to go through the whole meet-and-greet process."

"Thank you," I said gratefully as she pulled into the garage. She pulled the keys out of the ignition and hopped out of the car. Before I could even make my sluggish body open the door, Alice had already opened the trunk and grabbed my bag. I was surprised she didn't collapse under the weight of it; actually, she carried it as though it were not trouble to her at all.

"I'll give you a tour of the house whenever you wake up. For now, let's head to your room."

I was too tired to observe the warmly lit interior of the house as I trudged down the hall and up the stairs behind her. Alice still didn't seem to have problems hauling my bag over her ostensibly frail shoulders.

"And here we are," she stated, gesturing gracefully to a door and opening it. "Tada!" she said, dropping my bag with a small muffled thud as it hit the chocolate brown carpet. The only thing I could see was the bed, the fluffy purple masterpiece that it was. My unfortunately fatigued body yearned for it.

Alice must have seen me eyeing it almost lovingly because she grabbed the door knob and began backing out of the room. "You get some shut eye. I'll talk to you when you wake up." She smiled and shut the door.

The last thing I remembered was taking off my jeans and crawling under the plush comforter, drifting almost instantly into sleep.

--

My body felt stiff and achy when I finally woke up. The clock next to my bed read that it was six in the morning. I wondered if I had been in a coma since I was now tired from oversleeping.

I sat up in my incredibly comfortable bed, stretching my arms above my head and feeling the joints pop. I rolled my shoulders backward and forward, attempting to loosen the muscles, yawned and got out of bed.

I now was aware and alert enough to check out my new room. I had bare, lavender walls and a brown rug centered perfectly on the wooden floor. The shades matched the ones on my patterned comforter and in the several throw pillows laid out at the head of my bed. There was a wooden armoire that matched the color of the floors—it was a buttery tan that somehow matched the deep brown on other pieces of furniture. There was a flat black television screen hanging on the wall in front of my bed, and a silver remote control was next to the lamp and alarm clock on the bedside table.

I walked into what I assumed to be my closet. Instead, there was another door leading into a small yet elegant bathroom with a beautiful shower that was the length and width of my king-size bed. The floor and countertops in the bathroom were white marble that was swirled with gray. A large mirror with a black frame hung over the sink. I almost felt like I was in a luxurious hotel, but it definitely had a more homey feel.

I went back into the bedroom, finally seeing the white door that had to lead to my closet. Opening the door, I was taken aback by how huge the closet was. It was brightly lit by a small crystal chandelier, and there was a top row and bottom row with tons of hangers on the rods. I knew my stuff could never occupy a quarter of the massive beast that was this closet. There were two walls to hang clothes on, one wall full of drawers, and one wall with a grid of meticulously lined compartments for shoes. A rectangular black suede stool sat in the middle of the all-white room. It was excessive for someone like me, but I couldn't help but be fascinated by how large it was.

I was tempted to run back in the bathroom and take an hour-long shower, but my stomach grumbled loudly, so I put my jeans back on and quietly stepped out into the hall, closing my door quietly behind me.

The hallway was very broad, designed in a very simple way. The lines were clean and sharp, the walls were a crisp white—just like my closet—the floors were shiny and wooden, and huge, abstract pieces of art hung on the walls. There were only two more doors in the hallway before I reached the winding staircase.

I noticed the interior was surprisingly modern, more than one would assume with such a classic façade. I wandered through the house, hoping to find the kitchen soon enough. I finally walked down the rest of the winding staircase, only to arrive in a mustard-colored room with dark granite countertops and a large island in the middle. Again, it was decorated simply, but this room was definitely more lived-in than the other rooms I had seen so far.

The smell of eggs wafted to my nose along with the faint odor of burnt toast as I walked farther into the room. A fully dressed blonde man was stirring a black spatula around a skillet while whistling a tune I didn't recognize. There was also a very tall man leaning deep into the wide, steel refrigerator. I guess my footsteps were louder than I thought, because the blonde man turned around and grinned.

"Good morning," he greeted, wiping his hands off on a rag and walking over to me. I tried to stifle a slight blush.

"Fuck!" the taller man whispered loudly, pulling a burnt bagel out of the toaster.

"Emmett," the blonde man warned disapprovingly. The tall man just scratched the back of his neck and muttered "sorry". He turned back to me, holding his hand out for me to shake. "You'll have to excuse him. I'm Carlisle Cullen. You must be Bella." His voice was just as kind as his smile, and his accent was very clear. I took his hand and shook it.

"Yes sir," I replied quietly. "Nice to meet you."

"Can I offer you some breakfast?" Carlisle asked, walking back over to stir his egg whites.

"Oh, no thank you," I replied, sneaking a glance from my peripherals at Emmett and his tall, looming figure. He was now sitting at the table, hunching over the newspaper is which he was fully enthralled. He seemed to take no notice to my presence. "I'll just grab something from the fridge."

I stepped nervously over to the refrigerator, passing right by Emmett. He kept his head down, still ignoring me completely. I secretly hoped he would keep his head down since I looked like shit with my wrinkled shirt and tumbleweed of hair. I didn't know why I felt like he shouldn't see me this way—it probably wouldn't have mattered with anyone else.

I heard a few sharp whispers as I opened the refrigerator door and grabbed a carton of strawberry yogurt. I turned around, shutting the door behind me.

"Carlisle, do you have a spoon?" I asked.

"Oh, yes," he told me, opening a drawer and pulling out a spoon with a sound of metal sliding against metal. "Here you go." I took it from him and smiled.

"Thank you." I walked over to the table as Carlisle placed some cantaloupe on his plate, sitting two seats down from the brooding Emmett, who was at the head of the table. His burnt bagel was smothered in strawberry jam. I tried not to look at him too much, in fear of him catching me, but his dark, solemn demeanor was almost captivating, but cold at the same time. His dark, curly hair hung over his, shading it and further showing his personality was one of introversion and solitude, for the most part. It was all I had gathered from the few seconds I had studied him.

The clanking of silverware in a sink snapped me out of my reverie. I looked over to see Carlisle rinsing off his plate. I was almost astonished at how fast an eater he was. I opened my carton of yogurt, peeling the aluminum lid back and licking the excess yogurt off of it.

When I set it down on the table, I became aware of Emmett gazing over at me, but when I met his clear, light brown eyes, he simply looked back to the folded paper in his hand. I tried to ignore the tingling I felt in the back of my head as I shoved my spoon into my yogurt.

"Alright, kids, I'm headed to the hospital. Bella, we're glad to have you here," he said, causing me to blush just slightly once again. He grabbed his keys off the counter and adjusted the top button of his blue button-down.

"I'm glad to be here. Thank you for having me," I told him softly, realizing how stupid I was for making it sound like they had invited me here. Carlisle smiled and walked toward the door that I assumed led to the garage. He hit the back of Emmett's chair on his way out.

It was silent for a moment as I ate the cold, creamy breakfast. I swirled the strawberry bits around in my mouth before biting into them and tasting their slightly tart sweetness.

I heard Emmett's chair scrape against the floor as he rose from the table. I heard him put his plate in the sink with a loud crashing noise and then I felt him walk in my direction.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance," he said in a deep, muted voice as he passed behind me. I whirled around to see him just after he spoke, but he had already exited the room. I slumped down in my chair, a bit astonished for reasons unknown. After just ten minutes with him I found that he was quite an enigma.

And for some strange reason, I wanted to figure him out.


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