Disclaimer: I most unfortunately don't own any of the characters of this story. That credit goes to the phenomenal Stephenie Meyer.

Authors note: This is my very first fanfic 

This story is set between the end of Twilight and the start of New Moon, in Bella's POV. Chapter 11

"Charlie?" I called, loudly banging my bag against the wall as I ventured inside my home. The light was on, and I could hear the distant blare of the television that signalled my father's presence. I dumped my bag at the bottom of the stairs, and lightly bounced into the lounge.

"Hey, Dad!" I greeted him enthusiastically.

Charlie looked up from the television in surprise—when he saw me standing there, his lips turned up in a wide grin. The sport game on the screen wasn't even enough to hold his attention; with a loud groan, he heaved himself off the couch and the next instant he was giving me an awkward, one armed hug.

It's good to see you're back, kiddo." He stepped back from me with his hands on my shoulders, looking me over.

"You too, Dad," I laughed. He was acting like I'd been away for two months, rather than two days. But, then again, it felt like I'd spent a lot longer away from reality than I actually had—time seemed like it was speeding up and slowing down at the same time when I was with Edward.

Charlie sat back down on the sofa, looking a bit awkward and embarrassed. "Well, I'd like to say I had dinner ready for you, but . . ."

"Don't worry, I've got it," I reassured him quickly, smiling. "Does chicken sound good?"

Charlie grinned again, showing his appreciation. "I think I missed you, Bella," he muttered.

"Happy to be of service."

Charlie laughed. "Oh, and I better tell you now—you're mother's been calling." He watched my pleased expression change into one of discontent and exasperation. "I know, I know," he told me. "I've assured her you're fine"—his brow creased in the most infinitesimal way, and I knew him well enough to know that he wasn't all too sure about this, but wasn't going to push it, thankfully—"but I did promise her that you would call her."

"Right," I sighed. That was surely going to be a long and pointless conversation; if conversation could be the correct word in a situation that consisted of babbling inquiries in a motherly voice and then assurances that that certain voice didn't seem to hear. Brilliant.

I supposed I did owe to my mother to call, seeing as this time she actually did have a pretty reasonable cause for her worry and concern.

Charlie's eyes had already flickered back to the television screen, and I didn't want to interrupt with what he had already been doing.

"Okay, well I'll just unpack and start dinner, and then I'll tell Renee to calm down and to leave you alone."

"Thanks, Bells," Charlie said, and threw me another grin.

I nodded, and slipped out of the room, back into the hall. I picked up my bag at the bottom of the stairs and lugged it up. I opened the door to my room, and flicked on the lights before entering.

When my bag was safely tucked in the corner, abandoned for the moment until I had enough courage to find out what Alice had put in there for me, I looked around my small bedroom and felt a rush of anticlimax. After my dreamy trip out of reality, away from everything, coming back home to normality was very off-putting and unwelcome. I kicked a sweater of mine that had been discarded onto my floor and threw myself onto my bed.

After the storm, in which Edward and I had sat out to watch for at least an hour or two, we had proceeded—when it became too unbearably chilly to sit idle outside—to move indoors, back onto the couch we had taken residence on the night before. In front of the fire, curled up in a ball with him, it was almost too easy to drift off into a peaceful sleep that was so deep I didn't even dream. I woke up in a tangle of limbs. If I had thought previous to this that sleeping that way would have been uncomfortable, I was now under the impression that nothing was better.

We had spent the morning there together, but then it became time to head back. I hoped we would get the chance to revisit this spot again, because it was just beautiful.

When we arrived back at the Cullen's huge white mansion, we were greeted by everybody except one—Rosalie was too busy fiddling with her car to notice our return. I tried not to linger on that, and to just enjoy the company of everyone else. Alice had been basically bouncing, her angel's face alight with glee.

I waited out the rest of the afternoon there—Carlisle got called away to the hospital shortly afterwards—and so I put off going home. I had been thoroughly enjoying watching Jasper and Emmet play an elaborate chess game, with their own rules. I didn't know what was happening most of the time, but it was entertaining.

I noticed form the corner of my eye Alice, her lips vibrating with words directed at Jasper, too low and fast for me to hear. I guessed it was Emmet's next moves, because straight after Jasper eliminated Emmet's favourite piece. He cussed loudly and refocused his concentration minutely.

Chess in the Cullen household soon got out of hand. Emmet and Jasper faced each other across from the wide space of chess boards, while Alice flitted around each side, concentrating hard. Edward and I sat together on the floor, watching. Even Esme made her way downstairs, a quiet spectre who couldn't keep the warming smile off her face while she watched her family.

I caught Edward out cheating—he was mouthing the moves Jasper was thinking of taking to Emmet, who was having a hard time keeping the smirk off his face. But Alice was quick—she caught on to this development, and soon after the game wasn't really between Emmett and Jasper anymore; it was Edward and Alice, both directing their players on what moves to take.

Of course, I found all this quite hilarious. The mind reader and psychic were getting seemingly frustrated at Emmet and Jasper, who apparently weren't dishing the moves out quick enough, or weren't listening to what they were saying.

Esme intervened before it turned into a fight, and it was decided on a tie.

Edward had kissed me goodbye through the window of my truck—Alice had driven me home, and I wasn't allowed to complain about it apparently, because it was all about "looking convincing". It was a chaste kiss, nothing serious, but I still blushed, embarrassed by Alice's company. She'd just given me an impatient look and gunned the engine deafeningly.

And now I was here, waiting for him to arrive, stuck at home and waiting out supper time. I supposed I shouldn't be too ungrateful, seeing as Charlie was happy for my company. I had missed him, too.

I sighed and jumped off my bed.

The alarm clock on my nightstand informed me that it was getting late, and I probably should've been getting dinner ready if I was set on eating at a decent hour. I bounced down the stairs, feeling a little more energized and enthusiastic after I realized tonight I'd be able to cook without fighting over the job with someone else.

The kitchen welcomed me into its arms.

As I chuffed around, cooking and chopping and preparing, Charlie wandered in to see how I was going.

"Nearly done?" he asked, just as his stomach let off a very audible rumble. His hand went down and rested on it.

"Sure," I laughed. "I just need to put this in the oven—do I have enough time to call Renee while that's on?" Not that Charlie would have any clue really.

"Err, I think so. She's pretty impatient."

I nodded and flung my oven mitts onto the counter with quite a speed, and rushed to get the phone off the cradle. Charlie noticed my unusually frantic actions.

"Anxious, are we?" His brow furrowed, and I knew he was wondering why I was so seemingly keen to speak to my mother.

"I just don't want her worrying." I dialled her number and put the phone up to my ear, waiting for it to start ringing.

Charlie muttered something to himself and stalked out of the room.

I didn't want him to know, because I had a hard enough time admitting the truth to myself, but the reason I was so anxious was because I was impatiently waiting the time when Edward would turn up. It didn't make much sense, but I thought to myself that if I sped up my actions, perhaps time would speed up too.

The phone call took almost half an hour. I was able to get off because for the last five minutes I'd been insisting to her that dinner was burning. She asked the usual questions: How I was, how I felt, if I'd been sick, in pain, feverish . . . I'd tried telling her I was all fine now, that my cast had been taken off my leg nearly two weeks ago (AN/ I soooo know it wouldn't have been taken off that quick, but let's just ignore that little hiccup, okay?), but she was pretty persistent.

The timer went off and I flew to the oven.

"Charlie!" I called, "dinner's ready!" It was hot and steaming when I took it out, so I made sure I was extra careful dishing it out onto two plates. I'd already set the table as I'd been on the phone, so I placed the dishes down and took my seat.

Charlie was there in an instant.

"Smells good, Bella," he said appreciatively, before digging in.

Dinner was humble, quiet, and my thoughts flew away toward other certain things . . . I jumped when my father addressed me.

"So how was your 'sleepover thing', Bella?" he asked through a mouthful of food, casually, just curious. I took a careful breath before I answered, trying not to come off overly wary.

"Oh, it was great," I said lamely. "Uh, Alice made me shop with her, obviously. I got a few new clothes . . . she's quite consistent, really. Good girly time."

Charlie nodded thoughtfully, but I could tell I lost him slightly at the mention of shopping. "Yeah, she is, that one. I'm glad you got out with her though, Bella. I worry sometimes when you're stuck here with me . . ."

He let that trail off and I knew why—there was no need to mention I was stuck here not only with Charlie but Edward too. Edward a lot. Not something that pleased Charlie greatly.

I opened my mouth to answer, not sure what to say to that. But, before I could find the right words, there was a quiet and sharp knock at the door.

"Oh! That's Edward," I mumbled. I got up form my seat and took both the dishes into the kitchen—Charlie was finished, and I suddenly wasn't that hungry. Charlie muttered something, too, but I didn't quite catch it.

"Not too late, Bells, okay? I know it's your break, but I'm still your father . . ." He gave me a warning look and shuffled off back into his spot on the sofa that he vacated every night after work.

I eagerly went to get the door.

I wrenched it out of the way, and smiled happily up at him. He was standing there, a perfect smile on his face, eyes warm and scorching and searching deeply into my own. I blinked, hoping to dispel some of the dizzying connection there was between us that moment, and stepped aside to let him in.

There was no greeting. I didn't say anything, and neither did he. It was like we didn't need to—like everything had already been conveyed through our eyes that needed to be conveyed. It was a feeling and concept I wasn't used to, but I absolutely loved it; it was comfortable.

I took his cool hand into my warm one, and shut the door behind him; it was dark outside. Then I led him behind me, our hand twined, up the stairs and into my bedroom I'd previously vacated. I stopped to shut the door behind me, and then I fully relaxed with a big sigh. I turned to face him.

Edward chuckled. "Hello to you, too." His crooked smile was in place, dazzling me as always.

"Sorry," I muttered. "I was just . . . anxious." That was it. That was all I said.

That was all I needed to say. He got me. He understood.

"Me too," he whispered.

I smiled a tiny smile, and then remembered something.

"Oh . . . Are you aware that Alice got me something? After out trip, I mean." I examined his face, and awareness dawned on it. I was still speaking softly, without meaning to. It just seemed to fit the mood and atmosphere.

I turned away from him, over to the corner where the bag that wasn't really mine—it was only mine for my father's sake—was. I picked it up, and supposed it wasn't too big considering.

When I turned back around, Edward was sitting on my bed, relaxed, his arms out behind him, supporting his weight. I followed and sat down next to him cross legged, facing him, the bag in my lap.

"Alice," was all he said.

I nodded. "Yes, I realize the limited packing room before in the bag must have been difficult for her. I should have known."

"I could have warned you, but I thought it would worry you needlessly," Edward offered.

"Thanks so much," I muttered.

His smile was back in place.

"Well, let's see," I said, and zipped open the black bag carefully. I stared at it in my lap, and looked into it. Clothes, as predicted.

I pulled the first item; it was blue. Of course.

"Hmmm . . . That's not too bad, is it?" I held up the thin cotton dress for Edward's inspection. It was quite modest; the hem would be at me knee, and although it was sleeveless, it had a nice shape to it. It flared out at the waist. "Impractical, though. I don't know where she would think I would wear this to, considering this is Forks. Am I supposed to just freeze?"

"I like it," Edward decided. I flushed lightly and placed it carefully to the side.

The next thing I pulled out caught me by surprise. "What . . .? Why would I need this?" The horror dawned on me and I looked up at Edward's innocent expression.

"I thought you said we would discuss it," I said weakly.

Edward's eyebrows shot up. "No, I meant that. Honestly. But this is Alice we're talking about."

"So she sees that we will be going?" I muttered. "I knew it! See, you always get your way." My face was down, my eyes focusing on the article of clothing clutched in my hands.

Edward pulled my chin up to look at his face with a finger.

"Perhaps not. I'm not positive how this one will turn out. But, this is Alice, so maybe she was just being prepared." He frowned a little. "I won't take you if you are really this much against it. Have some faith in me, Bella, please."

I looked once more at the thick snow jacket that was in my arms. It was gold, trim, designer . . . probably still practical, and entailed an idea I was yet to warm up to.

Skiing trip. Honestly.

"Next," Edward requested, and he pulled the jacket from my hands and carefully laid it over the dress.

All in all, the pile was pretty insignificant. What joined the rest were just a blouse and another sweater. Nothing I couldn't handle.

It was eleven when I decided I could live without Edward for an hour at most. We popped back downstairs to find Charlie dozing off in front of the television.

I walked him to the door and stepped out with him, the porch light on. I shut the door swiftly behind me in case my dad woke up.

"You'll be back?" Even after all this time and routine, I still felt the need to check.

Edward's hands gently went up to cradle my face delicately. We were inches apart, our faces zoning in each passing second, and I could almost feel his breath on my face. He moved one of his hands briefly to lightly brush the hair of my face softly.

"Of course," he whispered reassuringly, and his golden eyes were impossible to disbelieve. I was highly aware of the lack of light, of the darkness that enclosed our figures; it just sent that usual electricity between us swimming and humming into overdrive.

Carefully, softly, he ducked his face in closer, to close that breath's distance between us. His lips very gently, very sensually pressed against my own, his hands still cradling my face as if I'd fall away or disappear if I moved.

I shut my eyes as he kissed me, absolutely contented. He parted his lips slightly and I could taste him on my tongue.

I was very careful not to do anything hasty, to do anything that would make him pull away. My arms ached to wind around his neck, but I held off that desire, and just placed one of them softly to his smooth cheek.

He broke away soon after, too soon for my liking.

"Always," he breathed, his words vibrating against my lips as he still held my face close. He was fully answering my question from before.

And then his hands dropped, and with a small smile, he turned, swiftly, soon to be swallowed completely by the black darkness that stretched on into the night.

I watched, until I could see no more, and then slipped back inside, my own small, secret smile playing on my lips.

Is that any good? I need the reassurance—I'm a person who worries endlessly about these things. So, review, if you like, I don't want to be annoying about these things. Thanks to the ones who do :)

xx