When I arrive back at my place it's completely dark except for the lone bulb over the stove. I can see Alice's door is shut tight which means she made it back safely, more than like with Jasper and I head to my own room. Just as I predicted, Felix has claimed my pillow for his own and it takes everything I have to pry it from his claws.

I take off the work pants and slide between the sheets, not really caring about the work shirt. Much to Alice's dismay, I'll probably be wearing it tomorrow anyway with a pair of dirty jeans so sleeping in it doesn't make much of a difference. Sometime tomorrow I'll have to figure out how to get the bathroom clean between tennis and the weddings, my own laundry started so I have something to watch the kids in on Sunday. I need to hit the grocery store, leave a note for Mary at the bookstore to give her my hours for Wednesday…I need to make a grocery list…I need frosting for the cupcakes and those little liners you put in the pan…

Half an hour later as I'm still scribbling on a pad by the light of my night lamp, I hear the slightest knock and Alice's head peek in. She's in her little pink night gown and matching slippers. I swear, the girl would be ready for a Victoria's Secret covershoot at a second's notice. Seeing me awake, she smiles and closes the door behind her before she does a flying leap into the bed and buries herself beneath my covers.

"Where does Jasper think you are?" I ask as she snuggles up against my arm.

"Jasper is snoring like you would not believe. I couldn't sleep. How was work?"

"It was fine…busy…James was there."

"Of course he was. Did you give him the memo that pony tails are sooo 1994, much like Billy Ray Cyrus?"

"Leave his ponytail alone. We can't all have great guys like Jazz."

"Jazz is dreamy, isn't he?" she giggles and rubs her nose against my sleeve, pulling back suddenly. "Didn't you wear this to work?"

"Hey, you'll never guess who came in," I say, changing the subject. "Emmett's brother, Edward from home."

"Am I supposed to know who that is?" she asks me.

"I thought you'd heard Emmett complain about him before. Tall, thin, sulky."

"Oh! Over-achieving Edward, I think we have talked about him," she says and I nod.

"Yeah, well he showed up out of the blue with some Goddess. Seriously, you wouldn't believe how this chick looked."

"What happened? Did him and Emmett get into some kind of fist fight or something?"

"Nope, it was actually pretty calm. He had a beer, she got drunk off of white wine and sang with the band. Nothing terrible."

"Then why are you bringing him up?" she asks. I shoot her a quizzical look.

"I don't know…he was weird. Just thought I'd mention he was in town."

"Was he cute?"

"I couldn't tell beneath all the stony glares and all the hair."

"Oh, Jesus Christ, did he have a pony tail too?" she asks, exasperated and I laugh, burying myself lower so that our heads are touching as we look up to my ceiling. I feel like I'm in the fifth grade again with Alice most days. She brings out the kid in anyone pretty easily.

"No, no ponytail. Just a lot of untamed mess."

"I don't get British guys. Buy a razor for God's sake."

"He wasn't terrible looking."

"So he was cute, then?" she asks. I think for a moment quietly.

"He was kind of a punk, actually."

"How so?"

"He said the weirdest thing as I was leaving tonight. I told him I didn't think this was his kind of place and he said he didn't think it was mine either."

"He said that?"

"Yeah, can you believe it? He doesn't know me…how would he just assume that?"

"Well, I mean…come on, Bella. It's not your type of place."

"What are you talking about? I love Seville's," I argue, feeling a little hurt. Was she insinuating that I didn't fit in there? That I looked stupid working there compared to the other girls?

"I know you love working at Seville's, who wouldn't? Carlisle and Esme are great and it's like five feet from our home. But come on…if you were just hanging out one night on a weekend would you really go out to a place like that?" she asks.

"Seville's can be fun."

"Yeah but you…would you go there?"

"I probably wouldn't go anywhere."

"Exactly. You love pajamas…dirty pajamas I might add….and movies and books and hot chocolate. You don't like to go out drinking and singing karaoke with strangers. You like home. It's not your type of place."

"Well it was really freaking presumptuous of him to say that," I argue pointedly.

"Didn't you say it to him first?" she asks lightly.

"Excuse you, who's side are you on?" I ask, poking and I hear her light giggle as she squirms away.

"He sounds intriguing. What are his plans while he's here?"

"I don't know, I didn't ask. I was busy most of the night."

"With Captain Pony Tail?"

"Don't you have a boyfriend in a bed waiting for you somewhere?" I ask her. I hear her heavy sigh as she sits up, pulling the covers with her.

"Get some sleep," she smiles at me from the doorway with a wave and just as quietly as she arrived, she disappears into the dark.

I pick my list back up from its resting place, checking through the items once more. Confectionary sugar…we're almost out of that completely…and I see his face out of the blue. Furrowed brows and tired eyes. That small smile in the light of the bar as we were leaving. How was it possible that as easily as I read him, he was able to read me? How did he know that if given the choice…scratch that…given the ability to turn off my mind, I would choose to stay home any night rather than go out and get trashed with strangers? I'd choose a glass of wine and a movie with Alice over Jaeger bombs with co-workers…that I'm waiting to find someone to sit at home and have a beer with on the couch and it doesn't matter if there's nothing on tv because really, we'd just want to make out and fall asleep in one another's arms anyway? What I wouldn't give for James to look at me one night from his table and ask if I wanted to get out of there to be alone and I would in a second because…one on one is always better than groups.

I wake up with the list half in my mouth, face planted down across my mattress. I'm still clutching the pencil. There's frantic knocking at my door and I grumble in response.

"Aren't you supposed to be doing something?" Alice calls to me from behind it.

"Eh?" I ask, still not quite in the game.

"I don't know, you're always doing something. Aren't you supposed to be somewhere? It's 9:30!" she cries. 9:30. 9:30?

Oh good lord, the Heighman wedding is in half an hour half way across town. There's no freaking way.

I fly out of bed, finding the dirty pair of jeans I was planning on wearing beneath Felix, of course, on the floor. He's less than pleased with me at this was well and I glance in the mirror to take inventory of the mess that is my unshowered, disheveled and exhausted self. Well look at that…pencil smudged face. Wonderful.

I tear out my bedroom door and see Jazz and Alice sitting at the kitchen table. I run to the bathroom and wipe my cheek off with wet toilet paper, grab a hair tie and chapstick as well as my bag from the coffee table. Running past Alice, her arm extends. Portable mug, brimming with coffee, so much cream it looks more like milk than anything else. Just the way I like it.

"I love you, thank you, hi Jasper!" I call. I don't wait for a response. I'm down the stairs of our building and out the front door, waving at the doorman. Ernie is in front of the café across the street and he waves to me.

"Ernie! Fastest way to Oxford!" I yell.

"At this time on a Saturday? Flying," he calls back. That's not funny, old man.

"Any other suggestions?" I ask. It's times like these I wish my bike's front tire hasn't been flat since June or that I invested a little more time in learning my way around on the trains rather than just simply walking everywhere.

"Bella? Is that you?" another voice calls. Coming around the corner is Emmett, carrying large bags from the grocery store a few blocks down. Three steps behind him is Esme with a few bags of her own and to my surprise, Edward carrying a crate of oranges.

"She needs to get to Oxford," Ernie calls. Esme glances at her watch and even from across the street I can see the sigh.

"How much time do you have?"

"Oh you know…negative twenty minutes," I mumble. Standing on the sidewalk contemplating the impossibility of my feat is less than helpful. They cross, lugging their groceries with them and even with her arms full Esme leans forward to kiss me on the cheek. I don't really have time for small talk.

"I'm going to just take a train…I think….when I find the train…."I say out loud. I turn to the left and then right. I could have sworn one of the perks of our apartment was its close proximity to public transportation but maybe that meant a bus of some sort.

"Oh honey, that's nearly twenty miles away. Even by car you're looking at a good forty five minutes," Esme says, looking slightly dismayed.

"Forty five minutes? I'll miss the ceremony!" I cry.

"How were you planning to get there originally?" a voice asks. Edward, of course, the president of pointing out my obvious faults. How do I admit that my original planned involved waking up early enough to figure that out on my own and that's as far as planning had gotten?

"A taxi," I blurt out. Yeah, that sounds good.

"So call a taxi," he says.

"Right…a taxi…I'll just call a cab," I mumble, searching my bag for my phone. I don't know why I'm bothering to look. I can see exactly where it is on my night stand, clear as day in my head.

"She doesn't have time for that. Emmett, honey, go get the car and take her please," Esme says, repositioning the groceries on her hip, "I'll take those from you and get them back to the restaurant."

"I'm supposed to pick Rosalie up in like, half an hour for breakfast," he says, his face stricken.

"It's ok, really, I can call a cab"-

"Well I'd take you sweet heart but we're hosting a brunch at Seville's this morning for the neighborhood merchants. Ernie is even providing the coffee," she begins, looking to me, her face drawn.

"I can call Rose and cancel," Emmett offers, though his voice is slow with the suggestion.

"No, really, it's ok, I'll just head up to the flat and look up a cab company, it won't be"-

"I'll take you."

His offer is quick and quiet, so much so that none of us really register he's said anything until he's placing the crate of oranges at Esme's feet. Before I can protest Edward draws a phone from the depths of his coat pocket and turns his back to us. I look to Esme for confirmation of what's actually happening but she merely smiles, staring at Edward's back as he talks.

"Rose is on her way. Do you have everything you need?" he asks. I fumble, searching for the words.

"Yeah-yeah, I have my camera and everything. You really don't have"-

"We've only got a minute, her hotel isn't far. Let's get these groceries back to the restaurant," he interrupts me, looking to Esme. With that, she nods quickly and he scoops up what he's set down moments before. Emmett gives a quick wave, Esme wishes me luck and they disappear down the street and around the corner. I'm left alone, completely confused.

Three minutes pass and I almost have myself convinced they were never here at all, ready to go back inside and call a cab company myself, when I see him coming back around, a jog to his step. From the opposite end of the street a black car is coming slowly and pulls up to the curb. Rosalie, in a knee length black jacket steps from the driver's seat, a petite black, rounded heel hitting the cobble stone drive. Without so much as a nod to one another she gives a quick wave and walks towards Seville's while he slides in and looks to me expectantly.

"Oh, right. Me. Sorry." I mutter. Am I supposed to sit in the front or the back? I opt for front. Just because he's driving doesn't make him the chauffeur, does it?

"Where in Oxford are we going?" he asks, pulling from the curb. We take off at a speed much quicker than the one Rosalie approached in. Before I can get my bearings we're tearing out onto Stockwell drive.

"The…the Oxford Hotel, near Hyde Park," I answer, trying to get my bearings. I don't want to complain but he nearly hit an old woman in a walker seconds ago. I realize it's best to keep my head down and search through my bag for nothing in particular.

"Who's wedding is it?" he asks.

"Um…this couple I met at the coffee shop. At Ernie's, on my block."

"You're not friends with them?" he asks.

"Not close…I don't know…they bought my drink once when I forgot my wallet."

"And you felt that this was an appropriate way to make it up to them?" he laughs.

"No! I just, I don't know. They're nice and they told me one morning that they were having a hard time finding a photographer at a good price and I have a camera, so I offered," I explain.

"You're doing it for free?"

"They pay for the prints and my lunch," I answer.

"And then you have to go back home to play tennis," he adds.

"Yes."

"And then off to another wedding this afternoon…"

"Um…yes." He pauses. I turn to see his face in the silence and to my surprise, he's laughing quietly.

"Something entertaining about my day?"

"No, just…nothing."

"You're laughing."

"I'll stop." And he does. His face straightens, his lips into a firm line and he grips the wheel, concentrating once again on speeding along the interstate. I have no idea where we are or where we're going. Rather than watch him flying along the road, passing cars left and right, I grip my bag tighter to myself and sneak a peek at him from the corner of my eye.

He doesn't look any less tired than he did last night, though he does appear to be fresher. No longer in a stiff suit and pants I can see the outlines of sweater, blue and grey at his collar and jeans beneath the length of his coat. His hair is clean, pushed up and away from his face though still too long to stay there for the day. There's a slight stubble on his chin. He wears the costume of a man who's supposed to be more relaxed but just isn't quite there yet. It's almost comical, the stiff way his back leans away from the seat as he moves along.

"I hope this doesn't mess up your day," I try, unsure of what else to say.

"Mess up my day?"

"Yeah, I hope you didn't have other plans that this is…messing up."

"Not really."

Silence. So, he's not a talker. Fine…it just so happens I'm not a big talker either.

More silence. Well, this is stupid.

"What did you have planned today?"

"What did I have planned today?"

"Are you confused by my questions?" I snap and then, slap my hand over my mouth. He's frustrating Bella, doesn't mean you have to be rude. He chuckles, again to my surprise.

"Sorry…not a lot of people ask me my plans."

"Nobody cares?" I ask.

"No I just, don't talk to a lot of people."

"Wow. That's really depressing," I laugh.

"I'm a busy person. I don't have a lot of time for small talk."

"Are you sure that you don't have time?" I ask. He meets my eyes, taking his from the road for a moment.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing. Just…that, well you had free time last night."

"And?"

"And you chose not to talk to anyone." He bites his lips in at this, though doesn't answer.

"Am I wrong?"

He swallows.

"Did I…cross the line?" I try again.

Still nothing.

"I'm sorry," I sigh, shaking my head. "That wasn't my place to say anything, I have no idea what you were doing last night or who you talked to or…or anything, really. Sorry, I have this problem where I open my big mouth and I don't even know what I'm talking"-

"Bella!" he laughs, suddenly.

"I also ramble, uncontrollably apparently, about nothing"-

"You're right," he says, simply, cutting me short. "You're right, I choose not to talk to people." He turns to look at me and I notice hat his eyes have softened, the slightest bit.

"I didn't want to talk to anyone yesterday and I was dreading this breakfast at Seville's this morning,"he continues. I can't think of anything to say. I see him relax into the back of his seat and his hands move from the top of the steering wheel to the bottom. Even his leg eases against the gas pedal and we slow in our pace a fraction of the speed. I don't know if I should be scared or grateful.

"People always want something," he continues, "in business or favors from my family or me, even…people talk a lot, about themselves and that's fine but I don't really ever have anything to say. It's like they're expecting me to say something great or profound or interesting and most of the time I'm just thinking about how I'd rather be anywhere but where I am talking to this person I don't know."

"…What do you they want from you?" I ask, afraid to interject.

"I don't know. My family has a lot of money and connections and I have the capability to help a lot of people within our enterprise and I would like to help them I just…I can't help everyone and sometimes maybe it's better to help no one at all."

"I'm sorry," I mumble, "I guess I don't understand. What do you do, exactly?"

He looks to me, a question playing on his eyes. "Carlisle hasn't spoken about our family?" he asks, clearly surprised.

"Um…Emmett goes to school, him and Esme run the bar…you're the brother who works a lot…that's about all we've covered really."

"I guess it's not all that interesting anyway."

"I'm still curious," I smile. He shakes his head with a laugh.

"Really, anything I tell you won't be important anyway. Cullen Enterprises. You can…google it."

We ride in silence again for several moments. Frankly, I'm stunned at the outburst that poured from his lips only moments before. In particular, the part where he's always thinking he'd rather be anywhere but where he is that moment, talking to someone he doesn't know. Kind of like now, here, in the car with me today. I feel terrible. He could be back at his hotel, hiding out, watching television or relaxing or anything really and instead he's forced to drive some stranger across the city for the sake of a family member…for the sake of doing a favor. One more person, asking him for something. Suddenly, I'm not so curious. I don't actually want to talk anymore.

He doesn't attempt any conversation either and after a short while, I can see Hyde Park looming in the distance. "Not bad timing…" he says, and he leans forward. On the grass, in front of the clubhouse I can see the wedding party posing for pictures along the stairs. The bride and groom are nowhere to be seen. Perhaps they haven't started yet.

"Weddings generally start a few minutes late, by rule," he says, as if he's reading my mind and pulls into a parking spot. I reach for the handle.

"I really appreciate you bringing me, really. Thank you." I step from the car. As I round the front of it I see he's also getting out.

"What…are you doing?" I ask slowly, reaching into my bag. The camera is there and I remove the lens, checking to be sure the film is in place.

"Well, I've come all this way," he says and he takes off his coat, placing it along his seat before closing the door behind him.

"You're staying?" I gawk.

"How else are you going to make it back in time for tennis?" he asks. Then, he removes his sweater. Beneath is a simple t-shirt, white and he slings the sweater over the crook of his elbow. The transformation is mind boggling. Stiff to slack Edward Cullen. He pushes his hand through his hair once and holds out his hand.

"Don't photographer's assistants usually carry the stuff?" he asks.

"Are you sure you want to stay for this? It's going to be really boring," I begin. He smiles, wider than I've seen, revealing brilliant white teeth. A little crooked on the bottom row. Weirdly, cute.

"It's the first time I've ever been allowed to volunteer…without being asked," he admits.

"You're going to be really bored," I try again.

"Just give me the bag, Bella," he sighs and then, his hand comes forward, sliding the bag from my shoulder. I wish, without knowing where it comes from, that I had remembered to brush my teeth this morning. I can't bring myself to meet his eyes. Instead, I let him take the bag.

"If you insist."

"Let's see these skills I've heard so much about," he smiles and I blush. Actually, freaking, blush like I did the other night with James. Because I'm just that easy. Because, really, I'm just that stupid.

I shake my head and we walk forward. Carrie, the bride, is waving at me from the entrance of the church and I run forward to apologize. She won't hear anything about it, she needs help with her veil and suddenly I'm leaving Edward in a circle of flower girls while I help to straighten her out. By the time I'm actually taking the photos, more candid than professional, he's stepped to the side completely. With his arms crossed he keeps my bag draped over his shoulder and watches us, laughing occasionally. I'm stuck between worrying about his boredom and doing the actual job.

However, I don't have to worry for long. Whenever I run out of film, before I get the chance to look up to ask, he's at my side with the next cartridge. Not hovering, never anxious or over eager. Simply shows up, little black canister in hand and he says nothing as my fingers fumble over the one I'm removing, hurrying to pass it to him. He takes it just as quickly and quietly and is gone. In the back of the church. To the right of the stairs out front. At a far table at the reception. Behind flowers, talking quietly to an old man I don't recognize. Always in the corner of my eye, but never meeting mine. He seems busier than I am actually. It's mind blowing.

I get a photo of the best man carrying the groom. The bridesmaids looking over their shoulders, the orange from the hems of their dresses not nearly as ugly as I imagined they would be when Carrie first described them to me. I get the bride dancing on the lawn with her father, both without shoes. If I ever get married, this is the way I would want to do it. No more than fifty people. No strangers, no obligatory visiting each and every table. The majority of the photos I take are of the couple together, the way it should be, rather than with the family and friends. Hands clasped no matter where they go.

I get a moment near around noon as the couple are cutting the cake for the perfect photo. Edward is kneeling to the right of the dance floor with the three flower girls. Looking slightly abashed, they're tucking orchids behind his ear while he laughs, their white dresses and orange ribbons twirling in excitement. It's adorable. It doesn't look at all like the Edward from the night before. It's not just the orchids. It's the smile. It's the way he bites his lips while they instruct him to tilt his head, laughing at the ridiculousness of it. I take a picture. Three more and then his eyes catch in the flash and he stands suddenly. More than embarrassed he hands the flowers back to the girls and point them in the opposite direction. I feel my cheeks tint as he catches my eye and look away. How did I end up here like this today? How did he end up here like this today?

Carrie and Hank thank me profusely as I'm leaving around 1. Edward is waiting by the car, leaning back and seeming to enjoy the sun. His eyes are closed as he leans against the door and I feel bad to interrupt his moment.

"Hey," I say quietly. He starts, smiles and stands straight.

"Ready to head back?"

"Yeah, I think we're done."

"Did you get your free lunch?" he asks.

"Yeah I got some cake," I laugh, holding out a plate. "Thought you might like some."

"It just so happens," he says, taking it from my hands, "that's the going rate for photography assistants these days."

We get in the car and without a word, he begins the drive back. I, again, can't think of a thing to say. There's so much I want to ask him. I sneak a peek. His head is resting against the back of his chair, one hand on the steering wheel. If he didn't blink I'd swear he was asleep.

That's the way we ride the rest of the way home. I take a chance and mess with the radio and he doesn't protest. I'm just getting comfortable, letting the warmth of the sun through the window play against my face and feel my lids growing heavy. Then, we slow to a stop and I see my building just outside my door. I sit up straight.

"Thank you. If I haven't said it enough."

"You have."

"Well, I mean it. You saved me today. I owe you."

"Just…don't let that picture get out and we'll be even," he smiles, pointing to my bag and I nod in agreement.

"Deal."

"Is your next wedding back in Oxford?" he asks and I shake my head.

"No, just around the corner, up here. It's an older couple, they're having it at the senior center. Nothing too extravagant."

"Then you won't be needing a ride." It's a statement, not a question.

"No, I'll be fine, thank you."

"Then I'll see you tonight at Seville's." Another statement.

"Yeah, I work tonight so…I'll be there." Obviously. Please stop talking. Close lips, before you say something stupid.

"Alright then, I'll see you there."

"Ok." Silence.

"You can…get out of the car if you'd like," he says. I jump, grabbing the handle and my bag.

"Sorry, God, going. Getting out of the car." And I do, practically tripping over my own feet and lurching myself over the curb. I slam the door behind me and steal a glance. He's shaking his head with a smile. I don't even wave. I just bolt for the door. All this time, I was sure it was just James' charming smile and soft hands along my sides on a busy night that could get me acting like an idiot. It's even worse than I thought. Obviously, I'm a pathetic loser. Obviously, any boy who pays me the least bit of attention I'll jump at. And quite obviously, to my utter dismay, I'm so transparent it's too embarrassing for words. Because Edward is a know-it-all and because I'm just this terrible at hiding my blushing cheeks and awkward ways, he knows I thought he was adorable all day long. Even more reason to completely avoid him tonight.