Note: Well, my week of hermit-hood turned into enforced hermit-hood because I got sick. At least it waited until after my class was finished, I guess. So anyway, I pretty much didn't do anything all week except write an 8.5k word chapter for your enjoyment (for reference, this is more than 2.5k words longer than my second-longest chapter). Soooo, yeah, totally not updating again until next Saturday. Especially since that one is shaping up to be similar to or possibly even longer than this one.

One last thing: there might be more errors than usual in here. I only slept about three hours last night because of coughing. I'll come back later and edit again.


XXIX.

Saturday morning dawned - a rare occurrence in Forks where morning was usually just marked by a lightening of the general gloom. I was awake, lying in the midst of my rumpled bed and watching the pink-tinged sky gradually turn blue.

It was the end of my second sleepless night.

My argument with Edward on Thursday had brought on a lot of reflection. It had somehow failed to occur to me until that lunch that if I got involved with Edward, his secrets might be my business after all. It also forced me to acknowledge some other flaws in the way I had been thinking of the whole thing. Up to this point, I had been half-jokingly looking for ways to support my Pale Pretty People cult explanation. Though I thought of it as a joke, I actually had invested a fair amount of emotion into it, taking refuge in its explanatory power when the things I noticed fit. When they didn't fit - I tended to ignore them.

Case in point: Edward's ice-cold skin.

I didn't know for certain that all the Cullens were equally cold, but it was a reasonable assumption. I knew that both Edward and Dr. Cullen were, and Esme's gloves on the day we met had not escaped my notice. Alice, too, had been fairly careful never to allow skin-to-skin contact.

Taking part in a cult, even one that somehow conferred special powers - whether through natural or supernatural means - would not make the Cullens cold. The range for acceptable body temperature in humans was quite narrow - not as narrow as it was for birds, but narrower than it was for cold-blooded animals like lizards and amphibians. Beyond those acceptable limits, the proteins in our cells denatured and ceased to function.

Physically, the Cullens could not be both as cold as they felt and alive.

At least not if they were human.

And maybe not if they were anything else, too. I had no evidence that being cold slowed them as it would a cold-blooded animal like a snake. Nor had I noticed them basking in the sun or warmth from nearby heaters.

It was completely crazy - they looked and mostly acted human and there was absolutely no reason to assume that, say, aliens from another planet would somehow evolve convergently with humans - which was probably why it had never really occurred to me before. But whatever they were, they simply could not be human, and whether they were alive or not was debatable.

That didn't tell me what they were. Aliens was, perhaps, the most likely - even if convergent evolution through natural selection were ruled out, artificial selection could do wonders, as could surgery. The Prime Directive in Star Trek forbade advanced civilizations from revealing themselves to those that were significantly less advanced. I had seen episodes dealing with the ways in which the Federation sent scouts out to collect data without revealing the presence of extraterrestrial life. Most of the time it involved disguises that included surgery or prosthetics. A more time-consuming but but less easily-discovered disguise might involve careful breeding - or even genetic manipulation - to attain a human-looking individual.

From there the speculations got crazier. At least lifeforms from other planets was a natural explanation. Everything else I could come up with was supernatural in one way or another.

All of that had kept me awake Thursday night. Last night I had turned my attention to what all this meant for the relationship between me and Edward.

He harbored romantic feelings for me - of that much I was reasonably certain. He had never pursued me unequivocally, though. Most of his attention could be explained away as friendship. Almost all of it, in fact - except that there was just so much of it. That meant, I supposed, that it would be difficult somehow for us to be together. That hurdle could be as low as my willingness to be with someone inhuman and probably genetically incompatible with me, or as high as us somehow - I don't know - being poisonous to one another if we were confined within a space for too long.

I didn't think that it was impossible, though, because Alice had been pursuing me for Edward and had not been equivocal at all. That left me...needing to hear Edward's explanations, I supposed. There simply wasn't enough information for me to make any decisions.

It led me back to why Edward considered himself to be a bad person, though. Could it be because he was lying about his humanity? Did he feel he was leading me on? Were he and his family the advance scouts of an alien invasion?

I didn't know any of that, either, but I couldn't shake the conviction that Edward himself was a good, kind and generous person. Maybe it was just because he had saved my life. Maybe it was just because he was utterly beautiful and so obviously concerned about my well-being. I wasn't certain, but I felt it and I couldn't convince myself I might be wrong.

I finally drifted into my first real sleep of the night reflecting on the reasons I had for believing in Edward.

My alarm woke me about two hours later. Jessica was coming to get me at ten and, expecting that after one sleepless night I might oversleep, I had wisely set my alarm. I hadn't been counting on a second sleepless night, but my alarm worked just as annoyingly well to wake me up from a two-hour nap as it would have from a real night's sleep.

I rolled out of bed with a groan and prayed silently that a shower would do something to alleviate my grogginess.

Usually I was more of a latte than brewed coffee kind of girl - which meant I drank very little coffee while living in Forks - but this morning I felt like I legitimately needed some. I filled and started the machine after I was done with my shower, earning myself a surprised look from Charlie, who was already awake. "Want a refill?" I asked with a shrug, gesturing to the mug in front of him on the coffee table.

"Uh, sure," he replied.

"So what are you girls doing today, again?" he called after me as I retraced my steps back to the kitchen.

I'd given him a rundown of our plans earlier in the week, but clearly a bunch of girls shopping for a dance didn't stick in his mind. I told him about it again as I busied myself making a bowl of oatmeal. "Shopping in Port Angeles - the Valentine's Day dance is coming up, you know - and then getting dinner and seeing a movie. Alice and Edward are going to join us for the movie," I added, knowing it would please him.

"That right? Huh. Are you - " he began.

I didn't let him finish that question. "It's a group outing, Dad," I insisted. Not only did I not want him hounding me about Edward, I figured I shouldn't get his hopes up before I knew what it was Edward had been hiding.

He turned his face away to hide a smile, and I realized that my speed in denying there was anything going on had only made matters worse. "That's not what I was going to ask, Bells. Did anyone ask you to the dance?"

"It's girl's choice," I explained, "but, uh, yes - someone did. I turned him down. I'm going to go to Seattle to get my shelves that Saturday." He opened his mouth, but I cut him off. "Before you ask - no, Edward isn't going either. From what I gather, he never goes."

This time Charlie didn't bother to hide his smile. "Actually, I was wondering who asked you," he told me.

Damn it. I was going to blame being tired for my mouth running ahead of my mind like this. I turned away and busied myself with the beeping coffee maker to hide my blush. "Mike Newton," I tossed back over my shoulder, answering his question.

"Newton, huh?" he said, his tone boding no good for Mike. "His parents are decent people, though they aren't from around here. I've heard that's Mike's been caught at a few parties that my guys have had to break up, though."

"Well, Jessica is interested in him, so I'm certainly not going to date him," I reassured Charlie. The coffee hadn't quite finished filtering through the machine, so I got out a mug for myself and pulled the milk out of the fridge.

"So Edward isn't going to the dance?" Charlie mused. "Didn't anyone ask him? He seems like a decent-looking boy, though I suppose he doesn't look much like that Justin Blieber you kids seem to like these days."

"Justin Bieber," I corrected with a groan, "and the 'you kids' demographic you're referencing here is between about ten and fourteen. I doubt anyone in high school would admit to liking that crap. Edward doesn't go to dances because he doesn't want to, not because no one would go with him. Trust me - from the sound of it, he's been pursued at one time or another by every girl at school." I filled my mug about half full of milk and went to see if Charlie had any sugar stashed anywhere. If not I would have to use the honey I usually reserved for tea, and I really didn't know how well honey went with coffee.

Charlie lapsed into thoughtful silence while I rummaged. "Did he turn you down?" he asked as I emerged, dusty but triumphant, with a small container of sugar from the very back of the pantry.

The question deflated my triumph. "I didn't ask," I told Charlie. "Seriously, Dad, I'm going to Seattle that day."

"Alright, alright," he said, letting it go. And why shouldn't he? I had already revealed a lot more than I'd intended with my stupid assumptions about his preoccupation. It turned out that I was much more preoccupied by Edward than he was.

Well, that was probably natural, all things considered.

I came out to give him his coffee a moment later, and then took mine - and my oatmeal - to the dining room table to eat.

Either the coffee or the shot of adrenaline I got when I contemplated the fact that I was going to a movie with Edward tonight seemed to help wake me up. Even though the movie wasn't a date, I thought that anything might happen in the dark. Maybe he would put his arm around me. Maybe I would take his hand - and maybe, for once, he wouldn't pull his away. Maybe I would do exactly what Jessica had told me she was going to do with one of the other girls in the group and lay my head on his shoulder. Anything might happen. It was definitely worth waking up for.

Jessica was just about right on time, so I left Charlie with a kiss on the head.

"I probably won't be here when you get home tonight," he warned me as I put on my coat by the door. Sun or no sun, January in Forks was cold. "I have an evening shift."

"No problem," I told him. "I'll call and leave you a message if I decide to sleep over at someone's house or anything like that."

"Sounds good, Bells. Have fun and tell Jessica to drive carefully."

I rolled my eyes. "I'll be sure to do that, Dad. Have a good day at work."

Glad to be going somewhere - especially after everything I had inadvertently revealed to Charlie - I ran out to Jessica's car and slid into the backseat next to Angela. She gave me a big smile while Jessica and June giggled and bounced with excitement. "This is going to be the best day," Jessica told us. "I can feel it."

On the ride over, we listened to a mix CD Jessica had put together full of girl-power songs - and no Justin Bieber - singing along loudly and off-key. It was a good thing Edward hadn't joined us for this part - we might have destroyed his ears forever. The CD was just about an hour long and ended as we entered the Port Angeles city limits.

"So what's our plan for today?" Angela - always the organized one - asked as Jessica switched back to the radio and turned down the sound.

"First we're going to look around at some thrift stores to find clothes for Isobel. You brought money, right?" she asked, meeting my eyes briefly in the rearview mirror.

"I have fifty bucks," I told her.

"That's not much," she tsked in disapproval, "but we can work with it. After shopping with Isobel, we'll get lunch at New Day, and then we'll go shopping for the rest of us, grab dinner at Bella Italia, and head over to the movie theater. That work for everyone?"

There were murmurs of assent from all of us.

"When are we meeting Alice and," June sighed expressively, "Edward."

We all chuckled. "At the theater," Jessica told her. "Alice texted me and Isobel yesterday morning before she left to go camping to get the time."

While organization wasn't usually Jessica's forte, it seemed shopping was different. She had everything planned out for maximum efficiency. We started with thrift stores on the west end of town and slowly made our way east. It was interesting shopping with Jessica and June on the one hand, who were both very trendy, and Angela on the other, who seemed to like a more classic look reminiscent of the 40s or 50s. I had no style to speak of, so I let them battle it out and bought what I was told.

"This is working out pretty well," June reassured me as Angela and Jessica brandished skirts at each other several feet away. In a moment I would need to speak up and let Jess know that the one she had chosen was way too short and I would never wear it. Among other concerns, Charlie might have a heart attack if I tried.

"Oh yeah?" I asked June. "How so?"

"Well, all these really classic things that Angela is picking out will pretty much never go completely out of style. They're fairly timeless. If you wore them all together, though, you would look really outdated. But with the stuff Jessica and I are finding, it gives them a nice modern flair. So you'll look good."

I laughed. "I just have to remember to match Angela-pieces with Jessica-pieces."

She gave me a thumbs up. "Exactly. That should be pretty easy, right?"

I shook my head, amused, and went to go break up the Skirt Skirmish, after which I had to intervene in the Battle of the Blouses and the Great Cardigan Kerfuffle. I came out of it with six new pieces of clothing to add to my admittedly rather sad wardrobe and a reaffirmed conviction that I didn't care much for shopping. For a while there, I'd thought it might just be shopping with my mom since I'd never tried it with friends. But nope-it was the shopping, not whom I went with.

We got lunch at a little cafe that mostly served sandwiches, salads and soup, but also made fresh pizza. All of us, unsurprisingly, opted for pizza. Jessica persuaded the other two that they should start looking for dresses at the only department store in town, even though they would probably end up at the only bridal shop in town. She had to explain to me when I expressed confusion that bridal shops weren't just for weddings, but had all kinds of special-occasion dresses.

After lunch, we walked the two or so blocks to the department store. It was immediately obvious even to me why Jessica didn't expect to find anything there - while their clothing selection might be adequate for everyday wear (and I wasn't convinced of that, either), the fancy dresses were confined to one lonely and abandoned-looking rack. My friends sorted through them, looking uninspired, and didn't try anything on. "Maybe we could come back for shoes and jewelry," June suggested. "Those will probably be less expensive here, even if the selection is more limited."

"Good idea," Jessica agreed. "First we need dresses, though."

She led us back the way we had come, past the cafe where we had eaten, and turned down another street a block or two further on. In a few moments we were ensconced in a comfortable boutique, getting patronizingly chattered at by a sales lady. I was abruptly glad that I had come along - I got the impression that the sales lady was the kind of person who held the conviction that the best looking dress for anyone was also the most expensive.

The parade of dresses that followed would have been dizzying had it not been for the small pad of paper and pen I habitually kept stashed in my purse. I dedicated a page to each of my friends and wrote down everything that both had potential and was within their budgets, along with notes on color and fit.

Half an hour in, I felt like I was beginning to understand what Alice saw in clothing design. The ins-and-outs of what looked good on any particular individual were sort of interesting. Jessica, for instance, had to wear something in a medium blue. It both made her skin look like she had just come from tanning on the beach - quite a feat in the middle of winter in Forks - and made her eyes look like someone had enhanced their color in Photoshop. Long skirts weren't her friend, though - they really drew attention just how short she was.

Angela, in contrast, looked amazing in a long skirt, especially with an empire waist. The length of the skirt made her already long legs appear as though they went on virtually forever. Her color was pink or peach - both made her skin glow and gave her hair a darker luster than it normally possessed.

June was the curviest of the three and had a nice hourglass figure. Red looked great on her, but the only bright red dress available was also really short and tight and made her look like a lounge singer on a riverboat. A darker, cranberry-red looked almost as good on her, and the tight-fitting bodice paired with an A-line skirt was both classier and still managed to highlight her curves.

As I had suspected, the sales lady kept trying to urge expensive dresses on my friends, but there were plenty of options that looked great on them and weren't too expensive. Angela and I had to gang up on Jessica to keep her from overspending, but a reminder from June that she still needed to buy shoes and jewelry persuaded her that she should stick to her budget.

It took a solid two and a half hours to reach final dress conclusions for all three of them, and I had a lot of time to think over other things as they chose dresses and changed in and out of them. As was becoming usual, my mind drifted back to Edward as soon as it was freed from other concerns. I was still pondering the problem that had kept me awake all night - namely, the disconnect between my perception of Edward and his perception of himself.

During my sleepless night, I had been working off of the assumption that the thing troubling him was somehow related to his inhumanity. Upon further reflection, though, I wasn't certain that I could draw that conclusion. Alice didn't seem wracked by the same kind of guilt Edward felt - was, in fact, to all appearances often exasperated by his angst. On the other hand, though, he had specifically told me that I needed to know about his reality before I made any decisions. Since I had been referring to the secrets that he and his family kept collectively when I used that phrase, the implication was that his guilty objections were at least tangentially related to more than just his actions or whatever.

Based on all that, I thought that there were two likely scenarios: either Edward and Alice viewed their reality very differently - so differently that Edward considered it a nearly insurmountable obstacle while Alice did not - or Edward's conduct as a whatever-he-was had differed significantly from Alice's, and he felt an immense amount of guilt over that difference. I had no way evaluate which one was more likely, but both seemed to me to be reasonable explanations for the differences in Edward's and Alice's attitudes.

Somehow, even without knowing any details, I thought that my inclination would be to side with Alice. Most might call Alice hopelessly optimistic, but she actually seemed refreshingly pragmatic to me - taking action where action was called for and not particularly troubled by what couldn't be acted on. Edward was moodier and, I thought, more likely to dwell on past actions whose consequences were well beyond changing or righting. I also got the feeling that he was the sort of person who would take way more responsibility than he reasonably could for any little chance failure in his conduct or attitude.

I reached that conclusion not long before my friends all finished choosing their dresses, and found myself returning to contemplate it after each interruption. Each time it seemed to bother me more. Edward shouldn't judge himself so harshly and he shouldn't assume that I would judge him harshly. And yet he did assume it - I saw him assuming it when he was arguing with me Thursday during lunch. It sort of made me...angry.

I began examining my anger as Jessica, June and Angela started looking through the accessories that the bridal shop was offering. Everything they had to choose from was, as June had predicted, overpriced, but the selection was good. Both Jessica and June began seriously contemplating getting either shoes or jewelry from the shop and then either going cheap on the other thing at the department store or just making do with something they already had. Angela decided just as quickly that she didn't want to spend a lot and came to join me on the couch.

I smiled at her as she sat down beside me, but my mind was still on Edward and my anger. I was starting to feel like I needed to do something about my feelings, I just hadn't worked out what yet.

"What's wrong?" Angela asked in a low voice, immediately reading my mood in spite of my attempt at a smile.

I shook my head, knowing that I couldn't possibly explain it. "Something Edward said is just bothering me. I think…" I paused as what I wanted to do slowly became clear. "I think I want to give him something."

Angela raised her eyebrows in polite confusion.

I definitely couldn't explain my impulse to her - I hardly understood it myself. The gesture of gift-giving, especially when it wasn't nearly obligatory, like at Christmas or a birthday, just seemed right somehow. Like by giving him something I was saying that I foresaw a future between us - romantic or otherwise.

I didn't know what I could possibly get for him, though. And before Monday, too...it wouldn't mean what I wanted it to mean if I didn't give it to him before we talked about everything.

Well, I supposed I was in Port Angeles, which was bound to have a better selection of everything than Forks. And I knew he liked music. Maybe I could do something with that. I turned to look at Angela, eyeing her speculatively. "Do you know if there's somewhere to buy music around here?"

She nodded, looking a little wary - like she wasn't entirely convinced of my sanity. "Yeah, there's a store somewhere in this area - I've never been there, though, so I don't remember exactly where it is. You should ask Jessica."

Jessica, of course, wanted to know why I wanted to go, and quickly made the connection to our lunchtime conversation with Edward on Wednesday. It was really no wonder she was the school gossip - unhampered by the sheer weight of disbelief (which I could understand - not only had Edward displayed no interest in anyone before me, the disparity in our levels of attractiveness was no doubt very striking), she had an almost uncanny ability to connect social dots and come out with an image awfully near the truth.

I didn't want to explain anything fully - I couldn't explain anything fully, since I didn't understand my own impulses - so I told her about the playlist Edward had given me after school and let her fill in the rest with her own assumptions. It was close enough to the truth without getting difficult.

"There is a place that sells CDs and stuff near here," Jessica told me at last, "Just down the block from where we had lunch, actually. It's fine if you want to go, but I'm not sure where we'll be when you get done. I suppose you could call."

"Or I could just meet you at the restaurant," I suggested. "It's right across the street from here, right?" June had pointed it out earlier in a friendly attempt to help me learn more about the layout of Port Angeles' cute downtown area. I hadn't told her that my sense of direction was only so-so and it would take a lot more than one trip to get me oriented.

Jessica agreed that my plan was probably the most logical one and gave me directions. I half expected Angela to offer to come with me - she didn't seem to have much interest in accessories, which made sense since she didn't even care about her date - but Jessica demanded her opinion before she could say anything. I shrugged - I liked Angela, of course, but sometimes a quiet walk alone was more pleasant than company, and I had a lot on my mind.

It was noticeably dimmer outside than it had been when we entered the bridal shop, and the clouds were still sparse enough that I could see that the sun was nearing the western horizon, slowly sinking towards an ominous cloudbank. I rolled my eyes - I really hated how short the days were during the winter here. It was barely three and already felt like evening, and once the sun was behind the clouds, it would get dark fast. I needed to hurry if I didn't want to wind up trying to find my way around a largely unfamiliar town in the dark.

Maybe I was paying too much attention to the sky or to trying to figure out what I could possibly buy Edward that he didn't already own, but I somehow missed the cafe where we'd had lunch. I realized I was on the wrong street fairly quickly after turning and knew I had to be too far north, so I cut through a nearby bank parking lot and found myself, fortuitously, right next to the very store I wanted.

Deciding it probably wasn't a sign, but that I was going to take it as one anyway, I went in.

There only seemed to be one person working and he was already helping the only other customer in the store, so there was no one to bother me as I browsed. I doubted that anyone could help me find what I was looking for anyway, seeing as I didn't know myself.

I wished, as I looked through rows of bands whose names I mostly didn't know, that I had a nice phone with internet access instead of the old flip phone that was all Renee and Charlie had ever been able to afford for me. The ability to actually do research would have helped a lot. My understanding of Edward's taste in music was fairly broad thanks to his playlist, but also really shallow.

About ten minutes later, I was picking idly through a rack and trying to decide if there was any chance that Edward didn't own every song ever written by Beethoven or Mozart. I very much doubted it, but I really had no idea what I was doing and this whole thing was starting to feel like a really stupid plan.

"Can I help you?" a voice asked behind me, causing me to jump.

I whirled - and stumbled, of course, just barely catching myself on the rack beside me - and found myself looking at the clerk. He was biting his lip in a clear attempt at holding back his laughter at my reaction. I hadn't even heard the other customer leave, but now we were the only two in the store. Though he was young, I thought he was probably at least a couple of years older than me, and he was reasonably attractive in a trying-too-hard-to-look-like-he-just-rolled-out-of-bed sort of way. Actually - that wasn't true. My attractiveness meter had been thrown off by Edward. Jessica and June would both have happily giggled over the guy for weeks. His features were all passable and everything, but his hair was - either naturally or not - a glossy dark brown that made his ice-blue eyes almost as mesmerizing as a pair of golden eyes belonging to someone I could name.

I felt my cheeks heat.

"Sorry," he apologized, "I didn't mean to startle you. Looks like you're really absorbed by…" he glanced at the case I had been staring at absently prior to his arrival and grinned, "Celine Dion."

"No," I said, putting the CD aside hastily. "I was just thinking. Hard."

He leaned back casually against the bin behind him and flashed me another grin. "I didn't know that picking music needed that much brainpower."

I snorted. "It does when you're buying music for someone else," I informed him. Especially when that person had impeccable taste and encyclopedic knowledge of the subject. I sighed. This was a really stupid idea.

His smile softened at whatever he saw in my expression. "Can I help you? It is kinda what I'm here for."

"I don't think so," I replied quickly. "I'm looking for a friend and - I just don't know what to get for him."

"You don't know what he likes?" the clerk asked.

My sigh this time was a bit impatient. There was no point in having this conversation and I would rather wallow in disappointment alone and quietly. "I know some of what he likes," I corrected, "it's just that he's - sort of a musician himself and not only does he know a lot more about music than I do, he probably already owns anything I could possibly come up with." I found myself staring at the floor and rubbed at a spot with the toe of my shoe as a fresh wave of disappointment washed over me. I still really wished I could give him something, but there probably wasn't time to go anywhere else.

It took me a moment to realize that, first, the clerk still existed and, second, he hadn't responded. I glanced up at him to find him watching me with one eyebrow raised. "What?" I asked.

"That sounds exactly like the kind of thing I can help you with," he replied. His grin resurfaced as I blinked at him, thinking that maybe two nights without sleep was starting to catch up with me. This whole conversation was making me feel unusually slow and off balance.

"Really?" I asked. In spite of my confusion - edged with a discomfort I couldn't quite name - the clerk's confidence gave me a little seed of hope.

"Sure," he answered. "Tell me about what you know your friend likes."

"Well, he's a pianist and really seems to enjoy classical piano pieces," I began, going on to list the musicians we had argued about, followed by as much of Edward's playlist as I could remember.

"Pretty eclectic," the clerk said when I had finished, sounding grudging in his approval. "If he's a pianist and you want something special, though…" He paused and glanced back at me, and I nodded eagerly in response. He sighed. "Well, do you know Beethoven's variations?"

"Yeah," I said. Beethoven's Diabelli Variations were something my mom and I could actually agree on when it came to choosing classical music to listen to.

He headed for the back of the store and I followed, stopping when we reached a rack labelled "local." "This is a local composer for the piano whose work consists almost exclusively of variations," the clerk said, picking out a CD and handing it to me. On the front was a picture of a woman dressed in a sari standing next to a piano. "Her variations are based on the traditional Hindu mantras, though."

My fingers tightened involuntarily around the case. Yes, I thought. Yes, this was exactly the kind of thing I was looking for. A smile began to curve my mouth and I looked up at the clerk. "This sounds perfect. I don't suppose I could listen to one or two of the songs to make sure?"

I couldn't quite put a name to his expression, but he nodded. "I have a demo for her last album up front. That one was based on the Gayatri mantra, and this new one is the Shanti, but it will still give you a good idea of the kind of work she does."

I nodded eagerly and followed him back up to the front counter.

He brought out a CD and put it into a complicated-looking stereo, and then pulled out and unplugged a pair of headphones. Music instantly filled the store. "Might as well both listen to it since you're the only one in here," he muttered.

We spent a moment silently listening to the music. "Do you know Maurice Ravel?" he asked as the melody began to repeat, this time with a simple harmony thrown in.

It sounded familiar. I spent a moment thinking about the name and decided that Edward had included a piece by a Maurice Ravel on his playlist. "I've heard of him," I told the clerk.

"Well, he has one very famous work that I'm sure you've heard. He's known for building to a crescendo through repetition of the melody, though. This composer tends to do the same since mantras are repetitive by nature."

"Oh, that's interesting," I said. "You really seem to like her." He didn't look like the kind of person who was into classical piano music - I could see tattoos peeking out from below the long-sleeved shirt he was wearing - but of course that was just a stereotype. For all I knew, he was a brilliant pianist himself.

"I do," he agreed. "I'm Travis, by the way."

"Isobel," I replied.

He nodded and we once again fell silent, listening to the music. It was very soothing. Without my even being aware of it, my eyes drifted closed and the exhaustion from two sleepless nights began to creep over me.

I was saved from falling asleep right there on my feet by the end of the first variation. My eyes snapped open and I looked up to find Travis watching me. "I think I'm definitely going to buy this," I told him, stifling a yawn as I gestured to the CD that I had set on the counter.

"Cool." He crossed the space toward the register and picked up the case as I fished a twenty out of my wallet and set it down. "It will make a good...birthday present?" he guessed, his eyes focused on the screen of his register.

"Not a birthday present," I corrected. "A…'just because' present."

He nodded and stole a glance at me. "So this friend is actually a boyfriend?"

I blinked, taken off guard by the question. "Uh, not exactly?" I blurted. Now I was getting questioned by complete strangers about my relationship with Edward? What the hell?

"But you want him to be," Travis pressed.

I gave him a hard look, trying to figure out why he was asking. He flashed me his grin in response. "I have a reason for wanting to know," he assured me.

"And what is that?" I wondered.

He leaned forward across the counter like he was going to tell me a secret. "I'm trying to decide whether you're single enough that I can ask you out."

I felt my face instantly go crimson and my mouth dropped open in shock. "Uh - wha?"

It made me feel slightly better that his cheeks were also a bit red. He took my twenty and opened the register to get my six cents of change. I continued trying to gather my scattered thoughts as he put my CD into a bag and tore off my receipt, but they scattered all over again when he turned it over and wrote something on the back, and then held it up to show me.

It was his name and phone number.

He shrugged, a crooked smile pulling at one corner of his mouth, reminding me again of a certain not-exactly-a-boyfriend of mine. "If things don't work out with this friend of yours, maybe you can give me a call. If they do, well, he's a lucky guy."

I didn't even try to respond, but I mechanically reached out and took the bag with my CD, receipt and change when he held it out to me.

"Have a good night," he told me.

I nodded stupidly and stumbled out the door.

It was considerably darker outside than it had been when I arrived. Still unable to really think through my shock, I turned and retraced my steps through the parking lot of the bank, not paying much attention to where I was going.

This would, I decided as I walked, be a lot easier to process if I weren't so tired. I might even have found it funny. Right now, though, I just found it bewildering.

Up to this point, I had been able to more or less explain the male attention I was getting. I was new at Forks High School and, as I had pointed out to Alice, the boys there couldn't tell the difference between novelty and attractiveness. Edward was, of course, a surprise - but it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that something about me was just more attractive to him than the other girls in Forks, and that he valued whatever-it-was more than looks. I didn't think I was as different as he seemed to think I was, but there was no denying that I was a bit quirky and decently above average intellectually. If he particularly valued those things, his feelings and actions more or less made sense.

That guy in the music store, though - Travis - what was his excuse? He had to be college-age, and girls much prettier, more interesting, and more awake than I was probably came in every day.

It was starting to feel like moving to Forks had awakened some kind of ancient magic that made me a magnet for the opposite sex.

That was just fantastic. Edward wasn't human and I was magicked. Or cursed? No, I decided after a bit of thought, magicked. I liked not being invisible and I liked Edward, even if some of the rest of the attention was confusing or awkward.

My last thought made me chuckle, and, feeling better, I looked around for the first time since leaving the music store...and realized I had no idea where I was.

I tried to mentally retrace my steps, but it was useless. I remembered turning to walk though the bank parking lot - like an idiot, I now realized, since I had only cut through it on my way there because I'd missed the correct turn. After that - I had just been focused on what I was thinking.

I didn't think I had, before this, been wherever I was now. On one side of me was some kind of industrial yard filled with machinery and piles of logs and bark chips. On the other was a boarded-up house sitting next to a vacant lot with a faded "for sale" sign that I could only just barely read in the gathering darkness. No cute, quaint shops. No bright blue theatres.

I was about to turn around to see if anything behind me seemed familiar when a burst of raucous laughter warned me that someone was following me. Instead of turning, I picked up my pace a little and risked a single glance back over my shoulder. There were two guys there, laughing together and swaying slightly as they walked down the street. I also caught sight of a gas station further beyond them, but it didn't help me - I didn't even remember passing it.

I took a deep breath and told myself firmly not to panic. It was unlikely that the two drunkards had anything to do with me. As soon as I found a crosswalk, I could cross the street to get away from them and, at the same time, hopefully figure out what street I was on. Then I could call Angela or Jessica - both of them had better phones than mine, with GPS and maps.

A little way ahead, I could see an intersection. There wasn't a crosswalk, but maybe that was even better - if I crossed and the two guys followed, it was more likely that they were specifically following me. If that turned out to be the case - well, most people, even drunk people, weren't violent. Sometimes people - more especially men - got off on simply intimidating others. Rape was more likely to be committed by someone the victim knew than by a stranger.

I knew all of these things, thanks in part to Charlie being a cop.

I also had, thanks to Charlie, a small bottle of pepper spray attached to my keyring.

Hopefully it wouldn't be needed.

I made it to the intersection and crossed after glancing both ways down the road. There were no cars coming - it seemed completely deserted. There was, thankfully, a street sign. I took note of the names and called Angela, my stomach clenching as, behind me, I heard two more sets of footsteps crossing the road.

They were following me.

"Hey, Isobel," Angela said. "Are you waiting for us already? We haven't left the department store yet, but I think we will in a - "

"That's not it," I cut her off. "I got lost after I left the music store, and I don't have a map on my phone. I know the cross streets where I'm at, though."

"Oh, okay. Let me just ask Jess for her phone…"

I waited for a moment, my mind running swiftly over what it could mean that the two men behind me were following me. The chance that they meant me real harm was still fairly low, but I no longer trusted my odds. I slipped the bag containing the CD that I was carrying into my purse, fumbling purposely in order to grab my keys without making it obvious that I was doing so. The bottle of pepper spray fit comfortably into my closed fist, and I felt a little better.

But only a little. If I had to use it -

Angela interrupted the rest of my thought. "Okay, I'm ready. Give me your cross streets."

"Marine Drive and Second Street," I replied. "I'm walking down Second."

There was a short pause as she typed in the information. "Got it," she said. "Oh, wait, there are two Second Streets that intersect with Marine Drive."

I stifled a groan. "Are you kidding me? Do they end up at the same place at least?"

"No…" Angela answered slowly. "One will bring you right back where you need to be, but the other turns south and becomes another street - Cherry."

I once again smothered my reaction. I didn't want the men following me to see any sign of weakness.

"If you turn around and go back to Marine Drive - "

"Not an option," I interrupted. "There are two drunk guys following me and I don't want them to think I'm lost."

"But you are lost," Angela pointed out.

"They don't know that," I countered. "Statistics show that people who intend to harm others prefer their victims to be timid, confused, or otherwise vulnerable. I'm safer if I act confident. For all they know, I live down here." Well, not here specifically - we were surrounded by warehouses. Surely there was a residential area somewhere in this general direction, though.

"Are you sure they're following you?" Angela asked.

I wasn't completely sure until that moment, when one of the guys chose to call out to me. "Hey - hey you, girl. It's not safe to walk alone at night, you know." They erupted into laughter, hushing each other uselessly.

I rolled my eyes. Menacing or not, drunk people were also dumb. "I'm pretty sure," I told Angela dryly, figuring she had probably heard him talking.

"Maybe," the guy behind me continued, getting himself under control, "you should let us walk with you."

Harassment wasn't violence, but it seemed to me that the two were working themselves up to something - probably something I wouldn't like. Ignoring them would give them an excuse to feel slighted and get angry. Of course, pepper spray was a much bigger escalation than merely ignoring them, and it was a problem that there were two of them - I couldn't be perfectly certain of getting more than one. If I got lucky, though, the other might stop to help his friend instead of chasing me. My guess was that I wanted the one who had been talking. The more vocal of the two was more likely to be in charge. Like with any animals, if you took down the leader, the rest of the pack was more likely to scatter.

"Angela," I whispered, "if you hear me screaming or if I drop the phone or anything like that, I need you to call the police and tell them where I am. I also need you to find me a way out of here, no matter which Second Street I'm on."

"You want Valley Street," she squeaked immediately. "It will take you back to Marine Drive. But Isobel - "

"Thank you," I murmured, and then turned to face the two men, working to cover my fear with anger. I should be angry, after all. I had done nothing to either of them - they had chosen to harass me.

They were both young, probably not much over 21, and the one on my left was fairly good-looking. His friend was shorter and a little overweight, with fairly long hair - but not in a nicely groomed way. He generally just looked rumpled. I guessed the better-looking guy was probably calling the shots.

"Well hey there," the guy on the left said as I glared at them.

"Leave me alone," I told him, identifying him as the one who had spoken before. Definitely the leader. "I have my friend on the phone and she'll call the police if you don't back off."

"We don't mean any harm, right?" he asked his friend, who nodded. "We're trying to help you out."

"I don't need help," I replied, popping the top off of the pepper spray I held in my fist and running my thumb along the upper part, feeling for the opening where the spray would originate. It wouldn't do me much good if I accidentally sprayed myself. Charlie had thankfully drilled me on this sort of thing - he took safety, especially my safety, pretty seriously.

The guy's smile became menacing and he took a step towards me. "Having your friend call the police doesn't do much good if you aren't here when they - "

Squealing tires cut him off as a car came careening around the corner of the intersection that we had left behind. Before the car's headlights blinded me, I caught a flash of silver. It made me think of the car the Cullens drove to school, and I wished fruitlessly that Edward were here. There was no doubt he would do whatever was needed to protect me - look at how he had jumped in to handle Mike and Tyler for me without even being asked. Whoever was driving this car had momentarily interrupted, but they didn't know me and wouldn't stop just because I was one girl facing off against two grown men alone after dark. I couldn't even jump out in front of the car to stop it - it was coming too fast. I would get run over for sure.

My hand tightened around the pepper spray, and I resolved to use it as soon as the asshole turned to face me again. He had essentially just threatened me, escalating the situation all on his own. I couldn't take the chance that he was bluffing. In a moment the car would be past us, and I knew his attention would return to me - I would have quite a surprise ready for him - and then -

But the car didn't zoom past. twenty or thirty feet away, the driver hit the brakes and threw it into the kind of perfect 180 degree spin that everyone saw on TV and pretty much no one had ever seen in real life. I stared in disbelief as the headlights spun, illuminating the surrounding warehouses. No longer blinded, I could see that the silver car didn't just remind me of the one the Cullens drove, it was the one the Cullens drove. And, as if in answer to my wish, I could see Edward sitting in the driver's seat as it came to a stop.

Relief crashed over me like a tidal wave, but underneath it a question I couldn't shake pounded away in my head.

How had he known?


Note: In case you're wondering, I completely made up the composer whose CD Isobel bought. If someone knows a composer who actually does write variations based off Hindu mantras, though, I think it would be pretty cool.