Hello, all! I hope you're doing well. :)

I am so sorry for the huge delay in posting! There's been a lot going on.

Thanks to Fran for all of her help, and to everyone who reads and reviews.

SM owns everything Twilight.

Surprisingly, the next couple of hours passes in the blink of an eye.

I've managed to read close to twenty books, and I can remember what happened in each one with vivid detail and accuracy.

It's honestly too bad I didn't have this talent as a human because it sure would have come in handy during my last-minute cram sessions before school.

Replacing the book in its proper place, I look for something to bide my time because I feel uneasy and antsy despite everything being at my eagerly ample and tireless fingertips.

Kate and Garrett have long left to their own space, and Edward is still conversing with his father and Eleazar over precisely what my abilities are.

They've thrown out a lot of theories I tried not to listen to, but my new brain makes it too easy to pay attention to everything around me and in front of me.

Apparently, I could be anything from a shield to a telekinetic, and I even heard the word elemental thrown out there too.

From their theories, they ventured into possible tests to try on me and prattled off a list of names on who could help.

Since I don't know who these people are, I only half-listen, finding myself bored quickly now that I've grown tired of reading.

I want to do something, but I don't know what.

Quickly, I run through a list of things I could do; painting, drawing, and watching television are all valid options, but none really appeal to me.

I just wish I knew what did.

Sighing heavily, I glance at Edward, trying this time to think at him, trying to convey my thoughts in a way he'll understand. Maybe, hopefully, he'll give me some ideas on what to do with the rest of my night … or early morning, as it were.

After all, he's done this longer than I have.

I'm sure he has some ideas on what to do that don't involve stalking and spying on me.

To my displeasure, he shows no signs of hearing me, continuing with his conversation.

With nothing else coming to mind, I'm going to do what I used to at home when I was bored in the house.

"I'm gonna talk a walk," I murmur, waiting for a split second for an acknowledgment, but receive none.

It makes me wonder if everyone is so used to tuning everyone out in order to give them some privacy, or if they're that focused on their conversation.

Nevertheless, I've grown bored of being inside and need more space to think about what this nagging feeling of want is inside of me.

My vision blurs as I find myself in the laundry room downstairs in the blink of an eye. I sway slightly, a little huff of a laugh leaving me as I realize the speed I had just used.

Will I get ever get used to it?

Will I get the handle of moving slower, at a more human-like pace?

I think about Edward and his family, as well as the Denalis. They all seem to be so at ease and practiced with their movements. They don't bat an eye at their sometimes-excessive movements, especially within the safety of their homes.

It's startling to see how quickly Mom and the Cullens move when they're unafraid of human eyes and completely relaxed. Their movements are lithe and quick, and now I know there's no way I would have been able to keep up had I still been human.

Seeing them behave naturally grants more awe and admiration toward them when I remember how slow they had moved before.

Was it easy? Did they constantly have to tell themselves not to do a certain thing?

Is it the same as speaking another language, where it becomes second nature and easy to slip into?

I want to ask these questions, but everyone is lost in their activities, either sequestered with their mates or doing their own thing by themselves. Even Mom is her in her room, the soft, familiar snores of Dad filtering through the door.

I'm willing to bet they were on the phone with each other, like love-sick teenagers afraid to hang up.

Ordinarily, I'd tease them for being so sappy, but it feels wrong to interrupt them or anyone else in the house with my inane worries.

Besides, I'm not really in the mood to talk anyway.

There's a layer of frustration and annoyance simmering just under the surface of my emotions; I can feel it start to boil, and I'm afraid if I hear anything other than what I want to hear, I won't take it too well.

And I know I won't take it well if I know I'm being lied to, either.

There's just no winning with me, and I fully understand why Edward calls me a pain in the ass.

Realistically, I know everything won't be sunshine and rainbows with picture-perfect happy endings.

I'm not on death's porch insistently ringing his doorbell anymore, so that's definitely a plus, but there are still so many things up in the air, like whether or not I'll be able to control myself so I can return home soon.

Or if the rest of my family will be turned.

What will happen then?

Shaking off the thoughts, I glance at the temperature gauge near the back door, my mouth falling open and my eyes bulging as I take in the temperature.

According to the LED screen, it's five degrees Fahrenheit.

I'm not sure why I'm amazed at this. I had already seen how the cold didn't affect me from earlier today when I returned from my hunt.

Then, I wasn't aware of the temperature.

Bending at the waist, I start to roll up my pant leg frowning as I hear the seam rip. There's a large hole in one side of my pants, but I shrug it off, moving to the other one, only to repeat the same thing.

They hang loosely from my legs, swaying against my ankles, tickling my skin. Heavily, I sigh, wondering how I had gotten dressed and moved around all day.

It occurs to me then.

All the doors were already open, or someone opened them for me.

As for my clothes, I was already dressed when I woke, and when I changed from my wet, snow-logged clothes, I had been moving extremely slow to torture Edward.

I suppose that's the key.

Moving slowly.

With the gaping holes in my pants, there's no way they'd stay rolled up around my knees. I place a gentle hand near the fabric by my knee and forcefully tug with the other as I tear the cloth away and toss it in the small wastebasket near the dryer.

Opening the back door, I'm immediately assaulted by whistling winds, blowing a handful of snow flurries in my face.

It feels like feathers or cotton balls being thrown at me, and unable to help myself, I lightly laugh, taking in a deep breath of the crisp air.

Coldness invades my chest, but it feels invigorating instead of it feeling harsh or stinging.

Behind me, snow accumulates onto the floor, and I quickly scoop it back outside before closing the door, wincing when I hear something splinter followed by the glass in the small window cracking from the bottom left corner.

"Shit. Sorry!"

"Don't worry about it, Kid," Garrett calls out to me. "Kate's done much worse."

I huff a laugh, wondering what she had done, but I suppose there's plenty of time to hear all about the exploits of my new housemates.

Walking out into the yard, I'm acutely aware that while I am alone out here, I'm not unwatched.

Idly, I wonder who it could be … Alice? Emmett? Or Edward?

From the way my skin tingles, I'd be willing to bet it's Edward, but I hadn't heard him move or say something to his father about departing.

Then again, he doesn't have the best manners anyway.

My skin tightens as my back straightens, my senses telling me to be on high alert and be ready for who has been watching my every move.

Despite the uneasiness of having my back to someone, I remind myself I'm in no danger. In fact, between the two of us, I'm not the one that needs to be cautious right now.

I have no idea where to go from here; there's nothing but untouched land all around.

There's a forest up ahead—probably the same area where I had gone hunting earlier, and on the surrounding sides, there's nothing but untouched, uneven land, stretching out for miles.

Something I can see clearly—and it's absolutely amazing.

Snow covers the ground in an endless white blanket, the sky dark and twinkling with thousands of stars—but that's only when the thick gray clouds allow them to be seen.

I thought Forks had a brilliant view of the night sky, but it has nothing on Alaska.

Of course, that was before I had my new, advanced vision. For all I know, it's just as beautiful there.

With nothing to give me an idea of where to go, I close my eyes and spin around once, coming to a stop facing the opposite side of the woods.

Probably a good thing, considering Tanya and Arthur had gone that way earlier; I'm not sure where Tanya's house is exactly, but I don't want to happen across it.

Slowly starting off, I maintain a slow pace walking forward for miles, taking the sights and sounds.

Or lack thereof.

Kate had told me there was nothing out here, which made it possible for them to stay in the area for as long as they did.

I hadn't really believed her, thinking there had to be something nearby, but it's nothing but wilderness with steep hills and valleys—not to mention the thick cover of snow—making it nearly impossible for humans to come out this way, I imagine.

It's peaceful and serene and just what I need after a day like today.

Folding my legs underneath me, I sit in the snow, burying my feet underneath the white powder, scooping up a handful of flakes, marveling at the fact that I can practically see every single one of them.

Those that are loose that is.

The others are morphed together, creating a new pattern and shape, but that doesn't make them any less beautiful or unique.

I had never thought about snowflakes before; sure, it was beautiful when it was falling from the cloudy sky, ironically making me feel a sense of warmth and excitement in my chest.

Seeing snow always meant the holidays were approaching, which led to no school for a couple of weeks—longer if the snowfall was more significant than what was predicted.

The winter landscape called for snowball fights and a snowman competition with my cousins and always inspired Rose and me to go inside and create something.

I know for a fact they'd like it here.

This area would be a wonderful place to vacation when school is out.

Behind me, I hear the slight shifting of snow underneath a soft sigh of wind, and I smirk, wondering how he learned to move like that.

I'm sure it's natural and instinctive, but it's still cool.

I'll have to practice and see if I can be creepy like that too.

"Are you going to remain a creep or sit down beside me?"

Edward huffs a laugh, settling at my side, the snow clinging to his dark wash jeans. "How'd you know it was me? It could have been Alice."

I shrug a shoulder, never taking my eyes off the sky, catching the shimmering stars underneath the cloud cover.

"It seemed like a you thing to do."

"Or maybe you wanted it to be me."

"Hmm … but we'll never know, will we? You're here."

He sighs, slowly shaking his head in mock disappointment. "So I am. Damn you and your appearance being better to look at than my father and pseudo-uncle."

"You can say I'm beautiful. I know you like me."

"I tolerate you. Heavily tolerate."

Lightly, I laugh and lay back in the snow, feeling the powdery substance immediately cling to my shirt and hair. The feeling is heavy, but only for a moment as the slight sensation of a chill settles into my skin and leaves just as quickly as it came.

Edward lays down beside me, his head inclined toward me, and we lay there in silence, watching the sky slowly transition from the darkest night to the pink, golden hues of early morning.

The feeling I had back at the house is still strong within me, lingering and nagging. It's an uneasy and frustrating feeling that makes an unintentional growl leave my lips.

"What's wrong?" Edward questions, his voice calm and serene, like he knows what's bothering me, but he's waiting for me to say it.

For some reason, this just fuels my aggravation, and I growl again.

"I don't know. I feel … off."

"Well, that shouldn't be a surprise. You are off," he tells me before reaching for my hand, squeezing once, his thumb making a gentle sweeping motion along my wrist. "But don't worry, I like you that way."

Unable to help myself, I smile, entwining his fingers with mine, focusing on the feel of him rather than the mess swimming around my brain.

I can still feel it lingering, though, hovering along the edge like a shark circling its prey. I don't want to deal with it now, whatever it is, and I clear my throat and close my eyes, imagining those thoughts and feelings of what I know but can't put my finger on, as shadowy masses.

These masses huddle forward, slowly creeping up like a snake, but in my head, I picture an indestructible net casting down over Edward and me, keeping these shadows at bay.

They don't like this and roar in a fury, charging at my wall, but it doesn't budge.

I smile at this, slowly feeling a little bit of relief starting to edge its way over me.

A hand sweeps down the side of my face, brushing over my cheekbone. "Bella? Will you talk to me?"

A feeling of ridiculousness sweeps over me, but I push it away. If it'll help keep these intense feelings of agitation away, I'll imagine whatever it takes.

"You can't be quiet for two seconds?" I tease, not wanting to get into my wild imagination just yet.

"What were you thinking?"

"Why?" I ask, a trace of suspicion in my tone.

If Edward can suddenly read my thoughts, it's going to be a problem because I like having my mental privacy.

He rolls his eyes, letting his hand drop to the ground, disturbing the snow. "Would it really be such a terrible thing for me to read your thoughts? To know what's bothering you so you don't have to say it?"

I hesitate, wondering how I can express what I'm feeling when I'm not really sure myself.

Before I can answer, he holds up a hand. "Never mind. To know what's bothering you is one thing, but hearing your thoughts all the time would drive me crazy. For my sanity, please don't let me read her thoughts," he says, looking up to the sky as if in prayer.

"Jackass," I sneer, taking a handful of snow and smashing it on his face.

He sputters, the snow flying from his lips. I jerk back to avoid getting any on me, but I still feel the icy caress land on my skin.

Edward's eyes narrow, and he raises an eyebrow as if he's asking if he really wants to retaliate or let it go. I shoot him a smirk, knowing he won't ever go for it; right now, he knows I'm stronger than he is, and he won't want to take the chance of me kicking his ass.

Defeat washes over his face before his expression goes neutral. I feel his body tense, and my own body tenses, shifting my eyes to peer at him from my peripheral vision, wondering what he's up to now.

His right leg and arm twitch slightly, his muscles hardening and the knuckles of his hand going white as he presses his hand into the earth, no doubt to jump up.

I should have known his stubborn ass wouldn't let this go.

He's just like me … just more impatient.

At the same time, we both jump up, standing in front of each other. Edward blinks slowly, shaking his head and breathing a laugh as if he had forgotten something.

"Sorry," he murmurs, holding his hands up in surrender.

With exaggerated movements, he makes a show of resuming his previous position in the snow, folding one arm under his head while the other waves at me in invitation. He props his left leg up in a show of relaxation and ease.

Something I don't trust.

At all.

… Especially with the sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

Not taking my gaze from him, I reclaim my position as well, keeping my unblinking eyes on him the entire time.

"I know I'm handsome, but you're staring too much; pictures last longer."

"So do I. But don't flatter yourself; you're not that handsome. You're pretty, for sure—"

"Again, with this pretty bullshit," he grumbles with a scowl.

It takes me a moment, but the memory comes racing back; he had given me a birthday gift with a handwritten note that looked too gorgeous to be authentic. I remember thinking it was typed but felt the indentions in the paper from the delicate stroke of the pen.

I had called his handwriting pretty, and he had immediately taken offense, proclaiming that nothing about him was pretty.

Chuckling lightly, I rest on my elbow to lean over him. Instantly, his eyes darken, and his tongue sweeps across his bottom lip, an action that captures my attention almost immediately. I zone in on the wetness left behind and find myself leaning toward him, my hair falling like a curtain around us.

Without warning, Edward's arms reach up and grab at my upper arms, pulling me to his chest. My breath leaves in a burst of air as my palms slap down on his chest with a wet slap, thanks to the snow and ice clinging to my skin.

"Edward, what—"

Muted white is all I see in front of my eyes as a pile of snow is poured over my head. It clings to my hair, my eyelashes, and even the end of my nose, clumping together and sticking with ease.

Edward laughs heartily, bending slightly at the waist, bringing his face closer to mine.

"You—you look—you look like a demented snowman," he manages to choke out between chuckles.

Narrowing my eyes, I lean down and shake my head like a dog while I wrestle an arm away from Edward's grip, plunging my hand into the snow and tossing it on him. He tries to fight off my attack, attempting to squirm away, but I'm too fast for him.

Swinging a leg over him, I pin him underneath me, lying across his front while one hand holds his arms to his chest and the other continues to bury him in snow.

He says my name, but it's muffled underneath the powder, and I cackle in response.

"This is what you get, jerk."

Edward lifts his head, some of the snow falling from his forehead and ruby eyes, making him look like a demonic snowman, and I tell him so.

His eyes narrow, and his chest expands before he blows it out, sending it all over me.

With a groan of disgust and annoyance, I start swiping at myself, trying to get the offending flakes off me.

"You're such a pain in the—"

My words are cut off as Edward takes this opportunity to sit up, sending me back with him looming over me.

"Are you that much of a sore loser? You have to act like a child and spit at me?"

"I did no such thing," he says lowly with a shake of his head, his eyes roaming over me before quickly looking away.

"You so did. Like a child. You spread your germs on me!"

He snorts a laugh, looking back at me and away again, but there's something different about his laughter this time; it's tense and seemingly forced. He keeps looking down and away from me multiple times as if something else is occupying his attention.

"You should really talk to your father about your issues," I tell him with an air of fake seriousness that surprises even me. "You're what? Over a hundred? You should be more mature."

"Actually," he murmurs, settling his weight down on me a little more. Instinctively, I accommodate his frame, caging his hips between my thighs. His arms slide up underneath my back, so his hands grip the top of my shoulders, anchoring me to him.

His movements are natural and fluid as if this is second nature to him, and it's not bothering him at all.

Then again, it's probably not.

Edward's a freak that way.

Too bad I can't be the same way. My body buzzes and crackles, now fully aware of our position.

Even though I know it's not possible, I feel the heat growing in intensity every second I'm aware of what's going on.

"I'm seventeen," he continues. "And let's be honest here; you've had my germs before … a lot more than what just happened, and it didn't bother you then. I'm sure it doesn't bother you now, either. I know you want me."

Swallowing thickly, I try to remain cool and aloof, not wanting to show him how he's affecting me.

"Well, you're so wrong, jerkwad," I reply, my voice no louder than a whisper.

He raises a single eyebrow, and his lips lift in a knowing smirk as he somehow puts more weight on me.

"Really?" he asks, and finally, it seems he's just as affected as I am if his dark eyes and the tightening of his hands on my shoulders are anything to go by.

"A lot. You're annoying, to be honest," I tell him, keeping my voice surprisingly calm and steady for someone who feels like they're going to combust at any moment.

He laughs, flicking more snow in my direction. "Have a sense of humor and just admit the truth."

"Let me up."

"Come on," he teases in a sing-voice, realizing he has the upper hand now. "Just admit it."

"You really think it's wise to antagonize the newborn vampire?" I question lowly, a growl coating my words.

It sounds more aggravated than I intended, and Edward immediately catches the agitation in the sound.

His eyes widen, and he quickly sits up, raising his hands. "Bella—"

Another growl rumbles through my chest, and I'm up, knocking Edward onto his back in a flash. Gracefully, I land on top of him, my hair falling around our faces like a curtain.

His eyes darken fractionally before they return to their previous red color.

"Bella—" he tries again, his voice no louder than a whisper.

My only response is a growl because he knows he's in for it now.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I promise I won't keep you waiting too long!