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Salt Lake City, Utah
December 24
8:58 am

When I blink my eyes open, Edward's face is the first thing I see.

Which is fucking weird. Not that I'm complaining, though. As far as faces go, his is a very nice one to wake up to. I'm mostly just confused as to why he's sleeping next to me.

I sit up, glancing around, trying to put the pieces together. Bed: still made. TV: still on. Myself: still clothed (and all body parts still intact). All signs point to us passing the fuck out. Which is pretty innocent.

I look over at Edward who's still asleep. He's kind of cute when he doesn't have that stupid smug smile on his face.

He groans, rolling onto his back. When he opens his eyes, he doesn't look nearly as surprised as I was to find he's in my bed.

His voice is gravelly when he asks, "What time is it?"

I pick up my phone. "Almost nine."

"Shit." He scrubs a hand over his mouth. "Okay. We should probably hit the road."

"Alright. I might shower real quick… if we have time."

"Okay. Maybe I'll go gas up and get coffee and food while you do that. Can you be ready in thirty?"

"Yep."

He stands from the bed, tossing the empty beer bottles into the trash before leaving the room.

Huh.

Okay.

I try not to overthink what just happened. Although, I guess since nothing happened, there's nothing for me to overthink. Not that I thought there would be a chance of anything happening. But… there was a point last night when I was on my third beer and feeling warm and he made me laugh and it felt nice. So maybe I did think about something happening. Only once. Or twice.

After I shower and gather my things, I head to the parking lot. When I get closer to the car, Edward leans across the console and opens my door from the inside. I get in, and he points to my coffee in the cup holder.

We buckle our seat belts, and I try not to focus on the fact that he changed his clothes. His shirt is red plaid and his jeans are faded. His hair looks darker, like maybe it's still a bit wet. Like maybe he showered. When he glances over, catching my eye, I quickly look away, focusing on the road.

I feel awkward. So fucking awkward. And I have no real reason to back up this feeling. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I know so much about him now. After talking last night, he's no longer just Edward, the stranger who offered to drive me to Seattle. He's Edward, the woodworker. The guy who has one sister and one brother, both of whom he misses. He's a man who does nice things for people he doesn't know, like buys them coffee and opens car doors for them and offers them rides.

Basically, what it comes down to is that he's just too fucking nice. And I don't know how to deal with that.

He heads toward the highway, interrupting my thoughts with, "I mapped out our route while I was in Starbucks."

I sip my coffee.

"I figure we can drive straight to Portland tonight," he suggests. "Maybe stop halfway in Boise for some food."

"Okay."

"Unless you want to head straight to Seattle tonight."

"Doesn't matter."

"We'll already be on the road for like, eleven hours. So it might be good to take a break."

"Sounds good." I feel his eyes on me. "What?" I ask, slightly annoyed.

"You're being weird," he accuses.

"I'm not… being weird. I'm agreeing with what you're saying."

"You being agreeable is weird."

I scoff. "Isn't it a bit early to be rude?"

"Says the girl whose every comment is drenched with sarcasm."

"What's your deal, dude? You're in a shitty mood or something. Just drink your coffee."

"I'm not in a shitty mood," he tells me with a light chuckle. "In fact, I slept extremely well."

I turn my focus to the nothingness beyond the window. And for the next five hours, I try my fucking hardest not to read too much into what he's just said.

After we stop in Boise for a quick lunch, we don't hit the road again until six o'clock. By the time we finally make it to Portland, it's almost ten at night.

We drive around until we find a hotel that's not super sketchy, and while Edward's inside getting us a room, I call my dad. He doesn't answer, but when I'm mid-voicemail, he calls me on the other line.

"Daaaad. You always send me to voicemail."

"Bells? Hello?"

"I'm here," I say louder into the phone. "Can you hear me?"

"That's better. I tried answering your call but sent you to voicemail. Sorry. I'm getting too old for this shit."

I laugh at the thought of Charlie dealing with technology. "It's okay."

"How are ya?"

I glance toward the hotel lobby, staring at Edward. "I'm good, I guess. You?"

"Fine, fine. I didn't catch anything all day, but tomorrow might be better."

I frown at this news. "Where you fishing at?"

"Nisqually River. Billy and Sue let me borrow their place for the holiday."

"Oh. When are you heading back to Seattle?"

"Few days after Christmas. I had some vacation time saved up."

Of course my dad's not even in Seattle. I was calling to let him know that my plan of surprising him was going to take longer than I thought, and now it's fucking pointless. And I don't want to ruin what he has planned, so I stay silent.

"The reception is spotty. Can I holler at you tomorrow?" he asks.

"Yep." Pretending like I'm not on the verge of tears is hard. "Merry Christmas, Dad."

"Merry Christmas, Bells."

We hang up. And I just sit there in the passenger seat, staring at my phone. Edward comes back out to the car, fucking smiling as he tells me we're set and have rooms. I don't respond right away, trying to work out what to do now.

"What's wrong?" he asks, suddenly looking concerned.

I shrug, still trying to come up with a plan. I guess he can drop me off at the airport in Seattle tomorrow. Or I can take a bus from Portland to Denver.

But first things first.

"Nothing's wrong. Let's get drunk."

Not many chapters left, y'all. Thanks for readingggg. Hope everyone had a lovely Christmas!

Vic read part of this. And then I made my bf read the other half. So blame them for all the mistakes.