Title: You Found Me

Full Summary: Edward Masen has lived the life of a nomadic vampire, travelling with James and Victoria since he awoke an immortal. His ability to read minds has had the unusual side effect of making him a vampire with a conscience. Despite the ridicule from his coven mates, he's confident he's making the best of his existence and doing what's morally right... until he stumbles upon a brown-eyed girl reading in a meadow in Forks. As he attempts to befriend her and learns more about the sleepy town of Forks, Edward finds there's a lot more to being a vampire than he ever thought possible.

Pairings: Canon

Rating: M, for language and future sexing.

Chapter: Four; Distraction

POV: Bella

AN: Originally I had planned to start this chapter where the last one had left off, but a friend suggested I include the bonus scene that I was originally going to cut from the story, because it contained some interesting, and potentially important information, and could work as the beginning of this chapter, and I agreed. So, to those of you who have already read it, I'm sorry; consider yourselves early previewers of the first half of this chapter :P Feel free to skip, there are very few things changed. From now on, there will be very little overlap in the time covered by POVs. I hate copy and pasting dialogue and attempting to reframe it, so to those of you who dislike that style, you'll be happy to know I'm far too lazy for that :P

As always, I appreciate the faves, alerts and reviews :) The enthusiasm some of you have shown for the direction of this story has astounded me, and I promise I'll do my best to keep it on track :)

On with the story…

xx

The last few days had dragged by with agonizing slowness.

Each day after school let out, I was in my meadow hoping my beautiful boy would reappear. Each day I went to bed a little more disappointed than the day before. I was beginning to think – or, rather, truly believe – that he had been a figment of my imagination all along.

I knew I had an active imagination. My mom had always said it was because I was born a reader. The strings of words in books tended to conjure up imagery to go along with them. My beautiful boy had been different, though. He seemed so real; too real. How could I have possibly imagined the threads of red and gold in his hair or the way his skin lit up, quite literally?

My imagination might be overactive, but I wasn't crazy. Who would make something like that up, with no motivation to do so?

I wasn't like Jessica or Lauren, both of whom seemed to take great pride in owning anything that could be infused with sparkles. I shuddered to think of the time I had asked Lauren to borrow a pen. My pencil had broken in the middle of an English test and she had been the only person within whispering distance. I had spent the period writing with a sparkly pink instrument decorated with feathers. Though I'd had no choice but to use it, I had felt tacky and ostentatious the entire time. I swear, even Mr. Mason had looked at me oddly. Though that might have been due to the fact the pen lit up each time it was pressed to paper.

I shrugged off the thought, reproaching myself for being so naïve. Even if he was real, it was a fluke. He'd probably been hiking and stumbled upon some boring, plain girl that he had no attachment to, nor any desire to see again. End of story.

I'd been slightly hopeful that on the third day he'd reappear because in fairy tales the third day is always special. That's when the magic happens.

On the third day of no shows that theory went out the window. I should have known better than to trust fairytales, even if I was friends with a pack of werewolves.

Again, on the week mark, my hope had piqued. Perhaps he only had time to go hiking on Tuesdays? But here I was, clunking up the stairs to the back porch, the sun setting behind me for the seventh day in a row, heart heavy, as had become the norm.

I stepped through the threshold to the house, not caring if Charlie heard the door slam behind me. Despite his fatherly desire to remain ignorant regarding all things boy-related in my life, Charlie had mustered up the courage to ask me if I'd been having problems with boys. It went and completely against his usual "don't ask, don't tell" policy.

Instead of coming off as paternal concern, it had felt more like an interrogation. Not wanting to embarrass him or myself any more than the mere presence of that question floating in the air between us already had, I'd answered with a vehement negative. I knew he wouldn't ask again.

So, I was surprised when he caught my arm as I was heading upstairs.

"You've been walking around this place like a zombie. And you're never home for dinner. I'm starting to miss your cooking," he admitted gruffly. "Make sure you're taking care of yourself, alright?"

I felt a surge of guilt that I hadn't been there for Charlie. I wondered what he'd been eating the past week. I shuddered to think of what kinds of leftovers I'd find in the fridge. Charlie's culinary skills were worse than Renee's. At least my mom could cook if she set her mind to it, and didn't endeavour to find the most eccentric combinations of food physically possible. She had Phil to temper her unusual tastes. My dad only had me.

"I'm sorry, Dad," I said guiltily. "What have you been eating? Please don't tell me you've been living off the Clearwaters' fish fry? You know that stuff is going to send your cholesterol through the roof. You remember what Dr. Gerandy said–"

"I remember," Charlie interrupted. "Are you sure you–"

"We talked about this," I said tersely, cutting his thought short, not wanting a repeat of our awkward conversation from two days ago. "There's no boys in my life. Okay?"

Charlie's moustache twitched in amusement. "Fine. No mentions of boys. Jake called, by the way. Three times. He wanted to know why you haven't been returning his phone calls."

I frowned. "You know why. I'm grounded," I offered petulantly, knowing that wasn't the reason at all. Though I hadn't actively been avoiding Jake, I'd been consumed with my beautiful boy the past week, he had taken a tumble on my list of priorities.

"Cut the kid a break, will you? He cares for you. And I never said you couldn't talk to your friends while you were grounded."

"Fine," I sighed. "I'll call him later, okay?"

Charlie nodded. I took that as permission to be dismissed and shuffled up to my bedroom, snatching the phone my mother had given me off my dresser, unsurprised to see five missed calls from Jake, in addition to the messages he'd left with my father on the home phone. There was also one from each my mom and Embry, and another from an unknown caller. Erasing the call history, I laid it back down on my dresser and set about getting ready for bed.

I'd just clambered under the well worn quilt that Grandma Swan had made for me when I was a baby, when there was a strange tapping on my window.

Irritated, I got out of bed and slid the window open a little more forcefully than necessary and peered out into the semi-darkness. My irritation at having to get up meant I lacked the trepidation I probably should have been feeling.

I glanced around, seeing nothing at first. I was about to shut my window when a figure stepped into view from where he'd been hiding, pressed against the brick directly below my window.

"Jake!" I hissed, catching sight of his dark hair. "What are you doing?"

"You wouldn't return my calls." He stuck out his bottom lip in a way that made him look half his age.

My frown deepened. "So? Your solution is to come knocking on my window in the middle of the night?"

"It's not the middle of the night," he countered, craning his neck to peer back up at me, a frown crossing his face. "It's barely eight. The sun just set."

"That's not the point!" I growled. "Haven't you heard of the grand invention called the door? I hear they're real easy to use. You could try knocking on it. Sometimes people will even answer them, without thinking that you're a weird, creepy stalker!"

"Geez, what crawled up your ass? I just wanted to see you, okay? There's been some funny stuff going on lately and I wanted to see you were okay," he added, sincerity lacing his tone. The sentiment didn't lessen my irritation in the least; it might have swelled more at the implication that I needed to be checked up on.

"I've been grounded. Sorry I forgot to tell you," I ground out between gritted teeth. "I can take care of myself, thank you very much."

"But, Bella…" he whined.

"Good night, Jake," I said firmly. "I'll call you when I feel like it. Which might not be for a while, just so you're aware." I slammed the window shut before he could protest.

My phone immediately began to ring. Knowing it was Jake, I turned it off, fighting the urge to throw it out the window and hit him with it. I knew I'd probably only miss and end up with a broken phone, without the satisfaction of hitting Jake in the head, so I buried that thought. Who did he think he was, checking up on me? Stupid, overprotective dog. First my dad, now Jake. Didn't they know I was fine on my own? I'd been my own mother, father, sister and brother for years.

I fought back the sting of tears, suddenly angry. All I wanted was my freaking beautiful boy. Stupid absentee jerk. I was revoking the white knight title I'd bestowed on him, if he ever chose to reappear. Even Edward Rochester did it better, and he fell off his freaking horse and was blind and maimed.

I slammed my head to the pillow and shut off my bedside lamp.

xx

In spite of my waning hope, I once again found myself trudging down the worn path to my meadow the next afternoon. My stride was slower than it had been the past week, my disappointment serving as a physical weight I had to carry with me. It wasn't enough to stop me from heading to the meadow. The idea of giving up my routine expedition would be like admitting to myself I would never see my beautiful boy again and I wasn't quite willing to believe that yet.

Sighing, I settled into the cool softness of the long grass. I plucked one of the violet flowers that grew in the meadow, twirling it in my fingers and inhaling its sweet scent. In a fit of boredom, I'd looked up the type of flowers that grew in the meadow. They were Oregon irises, native to Washington State. So far that knowledge had gotten me nowhere, except given me a name to call the pretty flowers I hoped to one day enjoy with an equally pretty boy. Maybe I could impress him with my awesome tidbits of knowledge…

I pushed aside my wistful thoughts and opened my bag, pulling out my well-worn leather journal, staring at the soft brown cover for a moment. My mother had bought me the refillable journal years ago, when she'd gone through her scrap booking phase.

She had declared that I should have something equally crafty to do. I wasn't sure how journal-writing qualified as crafty, but then again, I rarely followed my mother's logic. Though I didn't write in it daily, the journal was well-loved, and I'd gone through several of the refills, filling it with plenty of musings over the years. Since I'd met my beautiful boy, the journal had seen more action than it had in months, though, I'd never brought it with me to the meadow before.

Today, my disappointment left me in a particularly contemplative mood. I'd just finished spilling my internal ramblings onto the page and snapped the brown leather shut when the familiar prickling passed over me. I ignored it. I was in the process of yanking on my jacket, which had been cast aside, due to the unseasonably warm weather, when I was startled by a smooth voice.

"Hello."

I felt as if I'd taken a gulp of warm milk as the voice washed over me.

If I hadn't been expecting someone for the past week, I might've screamed at the suddenness of it. Instead, all I did was peer in the direction the voice had come from. I could feel the smile bursting across my face, even before my eyes focused on the boy I'd spent the better part of the last eight days thinking about.

Here he was, less than ten feet away from me. I silently rejoiced that I wasn't crazy. The anger I'd felt towards him the previous night flew out the window, an elixir of happiness and relief bubbling in the pit of my stomach.

"Hello," I breathed back, after several beats of silence, finding it hard to speak and maintain a smile the size of Jupiter at the same time. "You came."

He glared at my journal shortly, before turning his too-beautiful-to-be-real face towards me, a brilliant smile gracing his features. He flashed a row of perfect white teeth in my direction. "I guess I have. Were you expecting me?"

I flushed furiously, heat rising in my face. "Maybe a little," I admitted, bashfully. "You fascinate me."

"I fascinate you?" he asked, raising a perfect eyebrow. "You don't even know me."

The pink hue of my cheeks burned brighter, creeping towards magenta. "I – I, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I didn't mean to imply that I think I know you. Just, the other day, when I saw you, it was, uh, I felt like I, um, I guess what I mean is that… I… I don't know," I finished, lamely. "I'm sorry."

I looked down at my lap, gripping my journal, tears of humiliation stinging the back of my eyes. I'd waited eight agonizing days to do that? I was such an idiot.

Instead of the sharp, condescending words I was expecting, I was greeted with his velvety laugh. I braved raising my head, and was met with a warm smile, which made me feel marginally better.

"You fascinate me, too," he said, when my eyes met his. From the distance, I still couldn't tell what colour they were. The ten feet that separated us suddenly seemed much larger. Based on his stiff way he was holding himself, I had a feeling he might leave if I tried to get any nearer. I didn't want to risk it.

"I do?" I asked, dumbly, wondering what this perfect boy could possibly find fascinating about me.

In his presence, I no longer felt comfortable referring to him as my beautiful boy, even in my head. It seemed stupid to have ever thought of him as mine, he was so many light years out of my league. I haphazardly shoved my journal underneath my legs, irrationally afraid that he might try to snatch it from me and read the embarrassing stream-of-consciousness I'd scribbled in its pages. Without the journal to hold onto, my fists latched on to handfuls of grass to calm my frayed nerves.

"Yes," he affirmed, not expanding on the thought as I expected. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully, almost too carefully, as though he were voicing only what was absolutely necessary.

"Um, well, that's funny, because I think I'm pretty much the most boring person you'll ever meet. Look up average in the dictionary, and you'll find my image."

He shook his head in disbelief. "You are far from average. You're extraordinary to say the least." His tone left no room for dispute.

"Me?" I asked, my brow crinkling in confusion. "Are you sure you're talking about me?"

"Yes." He nodded again. "Unless you happen to have a twin who looks exactly like you do. One who has the same copper flecks in the irises of her eyes, who smiles just as you do, and who smells precisely the same."

"Smells like me?" I asked, confused. "You've been smelling me?"

And when had he gotten close enough to see what colour the flecks in my eyes were? I still couldn't tell what colour his were, a fact that was driving me up the wall. I really wanted to see if I'd been right about them being green.

He looked down bashfully and shrugged. He took a breath, as if to continue, but instead of talking, he clenched, his fingers curling into fists.

"Shit. I'm so sorry," he murmured, his voice still smooth and soothing, even though he appeared to be under some kind of emotional distress. "I need to go," he ground out, his lips pursed tightly.

Unsure what to say, I looked down at the grass I'd tangled my fists in, as if it could help me determine what to say to prevent him from leaving. The few seconds I'd hesitated were enough. By the time I looked up again he was gone.

Holy crap, he moved fast. I was used to that kind of thing with Jake and the boys, but this seemed different. They usually made lots of noise to go along with their inhuman speed. He was completely silent. No wonder I hadn't heard him approach earlier.

Despite the fact he'd left, a grin was permanently affixed to my face.

Pulling my journal from under my thigh, I reopened it and flipped to the first blank page. I scribbled two words: he came, followed by far too many exclamation points. Jessica and Lauren would have been proud.

xx

If I thought I'd been useless during the eight days while I waited for my beautiful boy to reappear, it was nothing compared to how hopeless I was now that I was certain he was real. I had grudgingly returned to calling my beautiful boy, seeing as how I'd nothing else to call him.

Somehow, I knew he'd be there today and it made all the difference. Concentration and good grades were suddenly a thing of the past.

I had slammed my locker door shut, prepared to bolt for my truck and hopefully avoid anyone who wanted to talk to me. They could all wait. I had more pressing matters to attend to.

I should have known I wouldn't be fast enough. Everyone around me was surprisingly speedy these days.

Alice Cullen accosted me before I could get two steps away from my hideous orange locker (Forks High's décor was an unfortunate relic of the seventies). I sighed already counting the seconds until she left and I was free to go see my beautiful boy.

"Hi Bella!" her cheerful voice tinkled, her face alight with a wide smile, as she looked up at me knowingly.

"Hello Alice," I sighed, "What can I do for you?" I fought down the urge to run. Knowing my luck, I'd trip and be forced to make a stop at the nurse's office, wasting even more time.

"Ask not what you can do for me, ask what–" she started, giggling and I sighed impatiently. She stopped abruptly, a frown overtaking her face.

Guilt prodded at my conscience. It wasn't her fault I only wanted to talk to one person, who unfortunately wasn't her.

"Sorry, that wasn't funny," she admitted soberly. "Anyway, I was just wondering if you wanted to come over? We could work on our Spanish oral for next week."

"Uh, that sounds great," I lied. "Except, I already have plans tonight. Maybe during lunch tomorrow?" I asked hopefully, praying she wouldn't push for a different after school meeting. As far as I was concerned I was in a constant state of busy after school, starting today.

"Sounds great!" she agreed in her wind-chime voice. "I just know we're going to have tons of fun with this project! We're going to be the best of friends!"

Forcing the puzzled frown that I felt I should be wearing from showing on my face, I plastered on a half-smile, the best I could muster under the circumstances, and nodded along. Alice had always been overly friendly to me, but today she was taking it to a new level. The exuberance was a little disarming.

She touched the side of my arm in a friendly gesture, her fingers trailing slightly down the fabric of my jacket, almost reverently. I looked down at her hand and she quickly pulled it away, flashing another mega-watt, too-white smile.

"Well, okay, I'll see you tomorrow at lunch, Bella!" she said brightly, swinging her designer book bag across her shoulder jauntily.

I nodded again, not sure what else to say, especially in light of her enthusiasm for a project I was altogether ambivalent about. I watched dumbstruck as she pranced towards the parking lot, pecking her boyfriend, Jasper, who was leaning against the side of the shiny, cherry-red convertible owned by his twin sister, Rosalie. Once I'd come to my wits again, I remembered I had somewhere to be.

Within minutes I was in my faded, old truck, rumbling down Elderberry Avenue, headed for home, at just over the speed limit, which was as fast as my ancient truck would allow.

The moment the truck roared into the driveway, my door was open and I was sprinting inside. I scrambled to find a pen and paper to leave Charlie a note, as he'd requested, even through it was entirely pointless now that he knew I was visiting the meadow every afternoon, to "do my homework."

Backpack on shoulder, grin on face, I headed for the trail behind the house, making it to the meadow in record time, without tripping once. If it had been possible, the grin on my face would have widened at the sight that met me once I passed through the thick foliage into the clearing.

There, sitting crossed-legged amidst the grass and wildflowers, in the centre of the meadow was my beautiful boy, looking as perfect as ever.

Yeah, that's right, he was mine, and I didn't care who knew it.

Today, we had some things to discuss.

xx

AN: I was doing some googling, researching for this story, which included looking up Forks on map quest, and dude, it's tiny, for reals; my neighbourhood in bigger... Elderberry Avenue is a real street in the real Forks, by the way. I encourage anyone who hasn't been geeky enough to look up Forks on google maps to do so… it's interesting.