Forwarded To My Future

by Foenix2phorks

Complete. Bella is resigned to living a boring and unfulfilling life until she's old enough to graduate. But that was before fate stepped in. Looking up from her lunch tray, she sees four perfectly sculpted, pale faces - plus a bronze-haired, green eyed boy known for his gentility. He's not like the other boys in Forks. Can he help make her life a little more interesting? AU.

26. The Safety Dance

Chapter 26- The Safety Dance

April 28, 2005

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My boyfriend was born long before television, Twinkies, or the pop-up toaster were invented. My best friend drives like a maniac and gives more accurate weather forecasts than the meteorologists on TV. And my boyfriend's housemates guzzle down grizzly bear blood for breakfast, run faster than a bullet train, and try to convince the townsfolk of Forks that they are just your average human family. All in all, life in Forks is blissfully entertaining.

It has been well over a month since I was entrusted with their secrets. Most of the Cullens seem OK with how things have played out. Whenever I show up at their mansion, Carlisle and Esme greet me with hugs and smiles. They're the nicest adopted parent vampires I have ever met. Edward and I sit with the Cullen "kids" at least twice a week in the school cafeteria. Conversations range from witty banter concerning the arts to more unusual topics, such as how Emmett beat Jasper last week in an apparently epic wrestling match that lasted for hours in the wilds of the national park.

Additionally, it's always interesting to see the methods they employ when hiding the fact that they don't eat. Hamburgers are picked apart into tiny morsels and scattered around their trays. Chicken nuggets get slyly tossed into the trash can from fifty feet away. That is an impressive feat considering that there are hundreds of people around - yet not a single person ever notices. Sometimes Edward and I steal things from their trays if the food is edible and we're extra hungry. Whenever I relieve Emmett of a few unwanted French fries, he thanks me as though I did a huge favor and tries to pawn off the remainder of his food on me too.

While I am grateful for their kind reception, one Cullen remains as aloof as ever. In the six weeks since she had to run us to safety, Rosalie has not said a word to me. Her go-to tactic is to make believe that I do not exist. Although if I am very lucky, she will occasionally glance my way with the warmth of an Antarctic glacier before once again tuning me out.

At least I wasn't the only one dealing with Rosalie's silent treatment. The hostile glares she sent Edward were more intimidating than anything she has ever given me. She didn't speak to him for a long time either, evidently placing the blame entirely on his shoulders for telling me the truth about everything. But Edward took it all in stride, unperturbed that a supernatural being with a chip on her shoulder lived in the very same house as him. At least it seemed that way to me. I never saw him show up to school in the mornings with dark bags under his eyes to indicate that he stayed up all night worrying that Rosalie would sneak into his bedroom and strangle him while under cover of darkness.

Edward's Volvo had been badly wrecked thanks to James the vampire nomad. There were huge dents, broken windows, a missing driver's side door, and numerous other problems that made it impossible to drive. I assumed that the car would either be stuck at a body shop for weeks to come or dragged off to a scrapyard. Neither of those things occurred. The Cullens towed the Volvo to their enormous garage and let Rosalie handle the rest. Turns out that not only has she been blessed with unrivaled beauty, she also has the mechanical expertise that would put Mr. Goodwrench to shame. She can take a hunk of junk and transform it into a fully functional automobile in an incredibly short span of time. And in spite of being upset with Edward, she had his car up and running in only a few days. It's flawless again, appearing like it has never seen a scratch in its life.

By early April, Rosalie's anger abated somewhat. She no longer spends the entire lunch hour scowling at Edward like she wants to throw the contents of her uneaten pudding cup in his face. She even speaks to him civilly sometimes. This breakthrough pleased me very much. Being the cause of so much turmoil and disagreement between the two of them had me feeling a bit guilty.

Of course, not everything is hunky dory. She continues to pay me no mind and never acknowledges my existence. I said hello to her two weeks ago and all I received in return was a sustained, awkward silence until someone else piped in to deflect it. There have been times when I sit across from her at the Cullen table and I wonder if I set my hair on fire, would she even look up from her perfect manicure and take notice?

Edward assures me that she won't be like this forever. He insists that she isn't quite as upset anymore and that things will settle down soon. But I'm not so sure. She is an immortal. I'm sure that she can hold on to a grudge for decades with no problem. With the way things are progressing, I'll have gray hair and sciatica before Rosalie will stop looking like I am a cockroach who crawled onto her path.

Vampire problems aside, other aspects of my life have changed in these last few weeks. The guy who attacked me in Port Angeles was extradited to Texas. He now wallows in some county jail down there with no hope of making bail since the judge made it some astronomically high amount. That's the extent of my knowledge concerning his whereabouts. I don't want additional details. Charlie is the one who handles them. He keeps all information to himself unless I ask specifically. And I never ask.

Now that the serial rapist has been hauled away, I recently returned to Port Angeles after weeks of avoiding the place. Edward and I had a date night of dinner and a movie, a simple but fun evening that was exactly what I needed to replace less pleasant memories. Edward, of course, practically glued himself to my side and stared at everyone who passed by as though they were potential assailants. While we were at the movie theater, I informed him that I was going to the bathroom. The result was seeing an Edward whose nerves teetered on the edge of a breakdown. Just the thought that I would be out of his sight for a couple of minutes had him insisting that he would wait directly outside of the women's restroom. For once, I humored him and went along with the idea. The memories from that night in early March had been hard on him. Though once I was done and he saw that I was OK, I believe that's when he finally relaxed too.

At school, Ben and Angela have been dating for a while now. On the days that we don't eat with the Cullens, Edward and I agree that it is a blessing to have both Ben and Angela with us at our old lunch table. They don't talk in cutesy-couple baby talk that makes you want to gag. Nor do they try to give intimate details of their relationship that no one wants to hear. Yes...it's very nice having them with us. Otherwise, Edward and I would be stuck dealing with Mike and Jessica all alone - and those two are the exact opposite of Ben and Angela.

I was very concerned about Mike and Jessica's relationship in the beginning. Edward felt certain that Mike was manipulating her with the hope of making me jealous. Sometimes I would see him butter up Jessica with forced smiles and over-the-top compliments, and then - when her back was turned - quickly peek to ensure that I had been watching. Jessica may not be the smartest person alive, but she isn't dumb either. We estimated that Mike's con game would last a week or two at most before it fell apart.

However, as days and weeks went by, the pretense gradually changed. It's as though Mike forgot that it was all an act. He stopped covertly glancing my way when Jessica was talking and actually paid attention to her. He even began accompanying her on real dates instead of merely trying to shove their relationship status into everyone's face during school hours. By the end of March, they were cuddling, smooching, and calling each other nicknames that made everyone within hearing distance cringe - like snuggle monkey and baby cakes.

Mike's bitter attitude towards me changed too. The morning he politely asked how I did on my English assignment without a condescending sneer in sight was certainly a surprise. Yet after nearly three weeks of him not speaking to me, I was wary and wondered what his angle was now. But it turned out that there was no angle. He was only trying to reestablish our friendship. Although he never apologized for his childish behavior, I decided to overlook it for the sake of keeping the peace among us. So, he and I talk like normal people again - which is a much welcome reprieve from the past drama.

I have to admit that something else is far more shocking than our renewed friendship. Mike hasn't uttered a bad word against Edward or the Cullens in many weeks. I guess he and Jessica are much too busy goo-goo eyeing each other for him to have the time to glare at Edward anymore.

Although I am happy that things have worked out for the best, Edward predicts trouble in paradise once Mike and Jessica's "honeymoon" period ends. He believes that a day will soon come when many of their common habits (which they think are "adorable" right now) will suddenly seem unbearably annoying. For example, Mike's fifteen minute long stories that should take two at most to complete. Or, Jessica's needy tendency to ask Mike how she looks at least ten times a day. For the sake of everyone who attends Forks High, I sincerely hope Edward's prediction is wrong. The only thing worse than a cutsey-barfy couple are exes that can no longer stand one another. The school would become a battleground.

Within the past couple of weeks, a large portion of the student body has paired off into couples. My suspicions tell me that it's excitement over the upcoming prom that has elicited this phenomena. No one wants to be left out. I don't really get the hype. It's not the end of the world if you don't go. Prom is overrated. Plus, dancing inside of a smelly old gymnasium is much too dangerous of an activity for someone like me.

But my humble opinion appears to be in the minority. Whenever I admit that I will not be attending, people give me the strangest looks - as if not going will permanently hang over my head and haunt me till the day I die. Jessica and Angela have tried to change my mind, but I got them off my tail by claiming that Edward and I will be busy doing something else that night. In reality, he and I have no firm plans. I have absolutely no idea what we will do. Because while I am dead set against the prom, Edward is all for it. And he has made his opinion loud and clear. Numerous times.

It's a Thursday evening in late April, and Edward and I have just finished our homework. I'm busy cooking dinner while also preparing decent excuses so he will stop asking why I don't want to go to an idiotic high school dance. But really... Shouldn't it be obvious? Do I have to spell it out to him and thereby point out all of my flaws? I had hoped to avoid that scenario, though it is becoming increasingly difficult. Prom is a little more than a week away, and he has been more curious lately on why I keep turning him down.

Edward leans his forearms on the table while his eyes follow me around the kitchen. "It will only be for a couple of hours," he reminds me for the second time in five minutes.

Another fish fillet goes into the pan before I swing back around to deal with him. "I just think that it's a lot of trouble with very little to gain," I counter, folding my arms in front of myself.

Prom is a hassle. It takes weeks of planning and requires hundreds of dollars that could be better spent somewhere else. And what are you left with after exhausting yourself trying to locate an expensive dress you will only wear once in your life? An empty wallet and photos of yourself you will be embarrassed to see in a couple of decades time.

His eyes briefly roll to the ceiling. "It wouldn't be that difficult to pull off. You and I know very well that Alice would take care of everything if you would agree. All you would need to do is show up and let her take care of the rest."

My confident posture slumps a bit. Crap. He's right. Alice would do everything for me. The girl lives for this type of stuff. I've heard her go on and on about how she has put together every major Cullen event since the '50s - including Rosalie and Emmett's many elaborate weddings. She's so good at what she does, she'd probably track down a gown that I would absolutely love which would also look gorgeous fifty years down the road.

Damn you, Alice. Why do you have to be so organized and talented?

"OK, I'll give you that one," I concede grudgingly.

Desperate to come up with another plausible excuse that he can't write off so easily, my brain grasps at straws until another valid point comes to me. Edward knows how much I hate it when people stare. It makes me jittery. And watching people dance while sipping on fruit punch is the only thing there is to do at a prom. Surely he will understand if I use this as my excuse for why we shouldn't go.

I try to establish proper eye contact. Eye contact is critical or else you risk looking like a liar. Hopefully, my strategy will throw off his built-in lie detector.

"But what about all those people? They might stare at us. I don't think I could handle much scrutiny that night," I explain.

Edward's lips curve upwards slightly. "I can't say that I would blame them. I'd be staring at you, too." Then he winks.

I openly frown. That wasn't quite the response I was hoping for. He was supposed to be sympathetic - not amused. And on top of that, I am now imagining hundreds of people plus Edward watching me trip on nothing but air. Being the first person to break a leg during a slow dance would be humiliating.

I exhale a long breath. "That's really not helping your case, Edward."

"Then what will?" he presses, not missing a beat. His gaze deepens, capturing me within them. I suddenly feel exposed and vulnerable, like he can see right through me.

My eyes dart to the floor as I dredge up one last excuse. I reach for the ends of my hair and nervously wrap a few strands around a finger. "It's just-... I think we should wait a little longer before we do something like this. Maybe next year I'll be ready."

His head flops to the side skeptically. "You just want to put it off. When I ask you this time next year, you'll have another excuse ready to give me."

My body goes rigid. "Oh? Are you and Alice psychic twins now?" I taunt with narrowed eyes. Who does he think he is trying to predict what I'll say an entire year into the future? Sure - in this case - he happens to be remarkably perceptive and correct on all fronts. But still... The courteous thing for him to do is to not question my excuses and take everything I say at face value.

He rises from his chair and slowly stalks across the kitchen. "No, but I do know you," he purrs. "And I've been studying your strategies. You have given me plenty of excuses, but I don't believe that any of them should be too great of a concern for you."

With my back against the countertop, he comes to a stop inches away. His hand takes mine, pulling it from where I had been anxiously fiddling with my hair. "If you need help, you have Alice and several friends that could assist you in picking out a proper dress," he reminds me while playfully brushing my hair around his index finger. "And as for people looking at you, that's nothing new. Staring is the only thing the good people of Forks have for entertainment. And, finally - as for waiting until next year - well... I think we should go ahead and do it now."

"Why?"

"Because graduation would be soon afterwards and I think we'll be worrying about that more than attending a dance."

With my last decent excuse slipping through my grasp, a hint of frustration surfaces in my voice. "But it's just the prom! It's not that big of a deal."

"It doesn't have to be a 'big deal', Bella. It would only be an hour or two of your time, then we would leave," he reasons, his voice raspy and low.

I hate it when he comes up with a decent counterargument. And he said it nicely too, making it impossible for me to smart off in retaliation. Now I am left with no choice but to start laying out the truth. The painfully humiliating truth.

I pull my bottom lip into my mouth and reluctantly peek up at him. "But what about my feet?" I hint within a mumble.

He glances down and then flicks his eyes back to my face. A slow smile lightens his features. "I see that you have two of them. What's the problem?"

My gaze hardens to stone. "The problem is that I can barely walk without tripping when I wear sneakers. I don't even want to know what would happen if I were to wear a pair of high heels. It would be a disaster!"

His smile disappears and he returns to seriousness. "What's the worst that could happen?"

Not able to look him in the eye, my face points to the floor. My ultimate fear is revealed in almost a whisper. "Falling on my face in front of everyone would not be a night that I would want to remember."

A finger hooks under my chin and coaxes me to raise my head. When I meet his eyes, I don't see mockery or amusement. All I see is love and a soft smile.

"Silly girl. I'll be right next to you the entire time. I would never allow that to happen to you," he breathes out.

I'm beginning to feel the familiar stirrings of electricity sparking between us - which kind of helps me forget what I had been worrying about in the first place - when Edward's eyes dart to the side a moment. Now that his gaze isn't holding my senses hostage, I become aware of something echoing through the house. It's a rattling, metallic sound.

It's the front door knob.

Edward bends down until the tips of our noses brush. He plants a brief yet still impressive kiss that has my heart thrusting into overdrive in no time. Then he's gone in a flash, leaving me dazed and lightheaded by the stove top. My eyes flutter open. He's already sitting at the kitchen table and smiling innocently - looking like a model citizen who wasn't just over here successfully seducing the police chief's daughter.

I hear the sound of the front door opening and shutting from the other room. The noise reawakens me into action. Charlie is home from work. If he comes in here and sees me gulping for air like I just ran a 5k race, he'll know what Edward and I have been up to just now. And I like having my boyfriend with all of his body parts still functional.

I whip around and busy myself by flipping the fish frying in the skillet, hiding my face from Charlie. Less than half a minute later, I hear feet tromping into the kitchen. "Hey, kiddo. What's for dinner?" There is a brief pause. "Edward," he adds as a form of greeting.

"Fish," I answer. Hopefully, if he does see my face, he will assume my flushed cheeks and red lips are because of the heat wafting up from the stove.

I hear a chair drag on the floor as Charlie takes a seat. "That sounds great. You staying for dinner, Edward?"

"Yes, sir. I wouldn't miss it for the world. I've been forced to just sit here and smell her cooking for the past half hour. I'm starving now."

Charlie grunts, his way of acknowledging the accuracy of Edward's statement. A moment passes by before he speaks again. "Alice joining us tonight?"

I attempt to suppress a smile. Charlie has grown to love Alice almost as much as I have. She visits here often. A big plus about her is that she is an expert at helping me make this house look less like a curmudgeon bachelor's pad and more like something you wouldn't be ashamed to show your invited guests. And she's great at sweet-talking Charlie into going along with it without complaining. Through her influence, his old recliner that probably had more bacteria than all the petri dishes in a laboratory was upgraded to something newer and less flammable. Now a sleek leather one sits in the living room. Next, she convinced him to take down a few of the tackier wall decorations that I secretly despised, like the velvet painting of dogs playing poker. Unfortunately, Alice refuses to go along with my plan to banish all of my embarrassing old photographs from the mantle. She says they are precious and that I should be thankful to have so many photos to document my life. I'm not so sure about that. I wouldn't mind for that picture showing me being potty trained to "accidentally" disappear.

Alice stays over for dinner every now and then, but it's hard for her to keep up the charade of eating when a sharp-eyed person like Charlie sits three feet away. She normally limits her visits to after dinner in order to avoid it.

"Nope. She had some work to do at home," I answer. I'm certain that this is true. Alice is always doing something.

With both hands, I carry the platter of fried fish to the table and set it in the middle. I take a moment to turn off the gas burner on the stove and - when I return to the table - I see that half of the fish fillets are gone. I take a seat between Edward and Charlie and glance at their plates. One plate has two fillets and an appropriate amount of English peas and baby carrots. The other plate has four pieces of fried fish stacked like the Leaning Tower Of Pisa, two tiny carrots, and approximately five peas. Sometimes I think Charlie is a toddler hiding inside the body of an adult.

We eat quietly for a short time before we engage in small talk. Since this is Forks, small talk will rarely absorb your interest. It usually consists of Charlie telling us about his last fishing trip. On busy days at the police station, he will share that he received a phone call that required him to leave his desk and conduct actual police work. That's usually the limit to the excitement.

When he asks Edward and me what we've been up to, we have to downplay things a little. We can't tell him how we watched Esme weed her entire vegetable garden in five seconds flat and that the sunlight had her sparkling like a crystal while doing so. Or, how Jasper kicked a rock the size of my head and sent it flying far into the distance. Or, that Carlisle diagnosed a young girl's medical condition by merely sniffing the air around her. Truly interesting topics such as these we must keep to ourselves.

"I ran into Harry Clearwater today," Charlie reveals in between bites of his meal.

If he is reduced to informing me who he bumped into, that means that it was a very slow day at the police station. I try to hold in a yawn. "Who's that?"

"He lives down on the rez." Charlie shoves in a mouthful of fish and chews. After he gulps it down, he adds, "I haven't seen him in a while. He filled me in on some news about Billy."

My face pops up from staring at my plate. Now Charlie has my full attention. I glance at Edward to ensure that he is listening. His emerald green eyes are moving back and forth, from Charlie's face to mine.

"Billy Black?" I reconfirm.

Charlie silently nods and adds another bite of fish to his mouth.

I give him a few seconds to elaborate, but his appetite is distracting him from the subject at hand. "What about him?" I prompt.

In the recent past, Edward has had a rocky relationship with Billy Black and the Quileute. Along with Sam, they spent months trying to convince him to leave the Cullen house out of fear for his safety. But Edward refused. He saw the Cullens in a different light. Were they vampires? Yes. But didn't they also spend several decades preparing for his arrival just so they could help him? Didn't they feed more often than necessary as a precaution? And wouldn't a group of beings whose oldest member had hundreds of years under his belt be more empathetic to time travel problems than a bunch of humans who have no idea that Edward was born so long ago? The answer is yes. So Edward stayed with the Cullens - despite the tribe's objections.

After those two vampire nomads wrecked havoc around here back in March, Sam convinced a few members of the tribe's elders to try to work with the Cullens as opposed to just against them. Carlisle, Edward, Sam, and Billy met one night to negotiate an update to the treaty that had apparently been in place since the Great Depression. Two aspects of the treaty remain in place: the vampire members of the Cullen coven cannot cross onto reservation land, and secondly, they must never bite a human. In return, the Quileute tribe promised to stop trying to yank Edward out of the Cullen household or spy on his whereabouts since it was clear he was content with his life there. New conditions to the treaty were laid out as well. The two groups have agreed to communicate if danger is ever present in Forks - including any supernatural friends of the Cullens who may pass through.

Not everyone was happy with the arrangement - or so I have been told. Paul continues to hate the Cullens with a passion and does not trust them. But Sam is the alpha and what he says goes. As for Billy Black, Edward thinks he is still on the fence about it all. His whole life had been spent preparing for the possible return of the Cold Ones With Golden Eyes. He had been taught to be watchful and leery of them. And when he found out that a human was in their care, Billy immediately feared the worst. Trust will have to be built slowly within him.

Charlie chugs down his ice tea before answering my question. "Well, it's not really about him. It's about his son. A few days ago, someone mentioned that he hadn't been to school for a while. So, I asked Harry if he knew anything about it. He said that the boy's too sick to go anywhere."

My eyes spread open wide. "Jacob's sick?" If the rumors are true, it might be serious.

Charlie's brow ridge shoots up to his forehead. "I didn't think that you would remember him. You haven't seen him since you were little."

"I didn't remember him. I met him when Edward and I went to First Beach."

Charlie's head tilts to the side and a forkful of fish enters his mouth. He chews ruminatively for a short while. "Oh... Well, I think I'm gonna swing by Billy's house after work tomorrow to check on him. I haven't seen either one of them in a couple of months," he adds in a low mumble.

Thanks to Jacob's tattling, I know exactly why Charlie hasn't visited the Blacks lately. Billy bad-mouthed the Cullens one time too many and Charlie stopped speaking to him. I hope since relations between the tribe and the Cullens have improved, Charlie and Billy can patch up their friendship too.

"OK. I'll keep your dinner in the oven until you get home," I reply.

Charlie snorts and looks at me sideways, slightly shaking his head. "Tomorrow is Friday. I'm sure you two have more exciting things you can do besides waiting for me to come home and eat dinner. I was planning on stopping by the diner and catching up on all the gossip I've been missing out on."

All happiness flies out the kitchen window. The diner is my arch nemesis. It is nothing but a den of evil where they think deep-fried butter is a healthy snack since it's technically a dairy product.

"You just want to eat there so you can rack up on your daily intake of saturated fats and salt without having me watching over your shoulder," I accuse with a roll of my eyes.

One eyebrow curves up on my father's face. "I ate there every night for the past decade until you moved back. I've been there maybe twice since then. It's not going to kill me to eat there tomorrow night," he insists, using his Stubborn Dad voice.

"I hope not," I grumble in return. Maybe I should ask Carlisle to have the stomach pump down at the hospital up and running tomorrow night just in case there's an emergency.

We resume eating. Charlie forks in a couple of bites and swallows. "So...I hear prom's coming up soon."

Never in my life has Charlie Swan said a word about a school dance. This is the very last topic I expected would come from his mouth. Dances aren't his style. The man barely moves. His idea of an exciting evening is stretching out on his recliner while he watches people on TV running around and doing all the work. I am woefully unprepared on how to handle this situation.

My only defense is to focus my attention on the food in front of me. If I do not show any interest in what he is saying, maybe he will feel obliged to move the conversation elsewhere.

"Yep," I respond as I move a pea across my plate.

"Ms. Cope was telling me the other day that it even has a theme this year. 'A Night Under The Stars'. That sounds interesting."

My knee bounces underneath the table, the only outlet to my frustration that I can do without anyone noticing. "Yeah. I heard about that, too," I reply in a voice flatter than the plains of Kansas.

The kitchen grows quiet except for the scraping of utensils against our dinner plates. I grow optimistic that he has exhausted his chitchat reserves on the subject - until I hear a forced cough.

"Mrs. Fields told me that her daughter is going this weekend to pick out a dress. I think some boy asked her to the prom just a few days ago," Charlie reveals as though a budding teenage romance is something he talks about all the time.

I keep my facial features clear of expression. "That's nice," I respond apathetically. Then I spear a carrot with my fork and thrust it into my mouth, effectively ending the discussion from my perspective.

"I made sure to save up a little extra so you can buy a dress too. Mrs. Fields said there is going to be a sale at the department store in Port Angeles this weekend. Maybe you and some of your friends can team up and go together."

My eyes dart up from my plate and land on the person who just spoke those words. I would expect Mom to push me to go to prom, but not Charlie. He never interferes with my decisions as long as they don't violate any laws or put me in jeopardy of losing a limb.

I really don't want to have this discussion with my father. I've already been through it with Edward today - and that was enough.

"Dad... Don't worry about it. I don't need any of your money. Keep it and go buy yourself a nice new rod, or one of those fancy fish sonar things to attach to your boat," I say in an attempt to side-step the issue. I figure if I put happy fishing thoughts inside of his skull, he'll spend the rest of the night daydreaming about some hidden stream somewhere.

A sigh akin to a groan slips from his mouth. He turns his focus to the other occupant at the table. "Have you asked her yet?"

Edward gives one, firm head nod. "Several times."

"And?"

Edward's eyes squint musingly off into the distance. "She makes up elaborate excuses as to why it would be impossible for her to attend. I'm beginning to wonder if she is too embarrassed to be seen with me after school hours."

My forehead furrows down almost to the bridge of my nose. I shoot Edward a nice glare too. Stupid boy who can't keep his trap shut. Doesn't he know that boyfriends and fathers are mortal enemies? They aren't supposed to team up and work cohesively against me. This is indisputable proof that there is a glitch in the matrix around Forks.

Charlie whips back around, his questioning gaze zeroing in on me. "Why don't you want to go?"

I stiffen my back and stare defiantly. "Because prom is pointless. In twenty years, who's going to remember their prom night? No one, that's who. So, I think it would be far more memorable for us if we were to find something interesting to do that night instead. Like, a movie. Or a concert. That sounds like a lot of fun."

Charlie leans back in the chair, seemingly no longer interested in his dinner. "I think your assumption is wrong, Bells. I remember my prom just fine. Your mom wore a hot pink dress with puffy sleeves and a bow on the back. I wore a white tux that I rented from Port Angeles. Jeff Nichols was prom king and Cindy Downs was the queen. The last song they played that night was I Want To Know What Love Is by Foreigner. I may be old, but I'm not ancient enough to have lost my memory yet," he ends with a cocky smirk.

My mouth falls into a deeper frown. He can recite his life from 1987 just fine, but I bet the man couldn't tell me what we ate for breakfast this morning. Although, he did neglect to mention Mom's little baby bump from that evening. So, I guess in a way, I have already been to the prom.

"OK, Dad. Point taken. You obviously have a photographic memory," I retort, allowing the sarcasm to drip freely.

The amusement on Charlie's face slackens. "I just think that you should give it a chance. I don't want you to grow up and regret not going."

I admit the sentiment is nice. But I believe that my regrets would be much more pronounced if I were to go that night and something mortifying occurs, like a slip and fall on the dance floor that literally brings down the room - decorations and all.

I place a forkful of fish into my mouth and make a show of chewing. It's a fantastic delaying tactic.

"I'll think about it," I reply.

Charlie's dark eyes shine triumphantly and he goes back to attacking his dinner. But what he evidently doesn't grasp is that I just thought about it some more. And I have decided that I am right and he is wrong.

The remainder of dinner is less dramatic than the first half. Charlie doesn't push me anymore and he soon drifts to the living room to hunker down in front of the TV. Edward and I head outside to be alone for a while. The overcast sky blocks out a majority of the evening's lingering daylight. But there is something comforting about the front porch swing that calls to me sometimes. It's gentle, swaying movements are relaxing in times of stress.

I plop down on the wooden swing and Edward takes the spot to my right. The swing rocks back and forth while we enjoy the peaceful atmosphere. Within thirty seconds, an arm weaves its way around my shoulders. He pulls me across the three inches that separate us until I am snuggled at his side. My lips curve up and I lay my head directly above his heart.

"It's so sad that you can't go more than two minutes without touching me," I tease.

"You're exaggerating. It's been nearly half an hour."

"And that's sad, too."

"What is?"

"That you actually keep up with how long it's been since you last touched me."

I peek up and watch his face transform into that crooked grin that I love. "I blame you for that. Ever since you showed up that day in the school cafeteria, I've been a complete mess. When I'm at home, I'm counting the minutes until I can see you again. Everything makes me think of you. And then, when we are together, I can never seem to get you close enough. Somehow you became my whole world before I was even aware of it."

I smile so wide that it almost hurts, but I try to hide it. He basically just described how I felt for the past three months.

"That sounds horrible," I say in feigned sympathy. "Having an obsession like that is probably unhealthy for a boy your age. Maybe I should take you to rehab."

"I don't think they could ever find a cure. I'm hopelessly addicted," he smoothly replies.

"Good. I like your unhealthy dependency on me more than I let on. I'm used to it now."

He chuckles a deep laugh and kisses the top of my head. "And I'll be forever grateful for your benevolence."

We lapse into silence and watch the sky gradually fade to black. His fingers brush through my hair as we sway, relaxing me further. The only sound I hear is Edward's heartbeat thumping underneath my ear. It's oddly soothing, luring me to sleep.

"Bella?"

His rumbling voice breaks through the spell. I am barely conscious but I summon the energy to answer. "Hmm?"

"I think Charlie is right. I don't want either one of us looking back on our lives and realizing we missed out on anything. I want to take you to the prom."

I sit up straight as an arrow, eyes wide awake now. "But why? We could do anything else that night. Why is prom so important to you?"

He smirks, yet somehow he appears as charming as ever. "Did you know that my mother did a lot of charity work?"

My suspicions kick up a notch, forcing my eyes to narrow into slits. "No. Does this have anything to do with my question, or are you just trying to distract me?"

"This has everything to do with your question. As I was saying, my mother did a lot of charity work. Back then, the favorite way to raise funds for your charity was by throwing a huge, elaborate ball. And, as you can imagine, she helped throw a lot of them. So, several times a year, Mother would plead with me to ask someone - anyone - to attend one with me. Every time, I would tell her no - that I wasn't interested. And, every time, she would walk away disappointed. I always felt guilty that I was letting her down, but I could never imagine myself at one of those...things with a girl attached to my arm like an accessory. And I would never purposely give a girl the wrong idea about me. I was happy to stay an unattached bachelor.

"Then I somehow found myself here and my life was flipped upside down. I had been accustomed to living a certain way, and when I was faced with-" Edward stops speaking and temporarily glances away from my face. His arm sweeps around towards the world at large. "-All this - it was almost too much for me to handle. I stayed up in my room for hours on end thinking back on everything that had been taken away from me. It was not a healthy way to live. Looking back, I'm shocked that Carlisle and Esme didn't insist on either therapy or a straight jacket," he adds with a faint frown.

His eyes find me again. Taking my hand, he carefully turns it palm up and peppers it with soft kisses as he continues his story. "And just when I thought my life could not become any more complicated, you came along and flipped my world around again - but for the better, of course. I've never been so content before - not even in Chicago."

I try to keep my concentration centered on the subject at hand instead of the lips on my hand. "But..." I trail off, my eyebrows lifting expectantly.

A small smile tugs the corner of his mouth. "But...I would like to fulfill one of my mother's wishes even though she isn't here. I want for us to dress up for once. Maybe have a nice, quiet dinner somewhere that doesn't involve anyone but you and me. Then, we can show up to prom, see what it's like, say hello to a few people, then leave. It doesn't need to be a big production."

My arms cross and I stare with hardening eyes. He almost got me. Bringing up the sad Mom story was a genius move. If he had left it at that, I might have agreed to his wish. However, while he was listing the things we would do on prom night, he inadvertently reminded me of something else that I firmly oppose.

"Ha! Aren't you forgetting something? Isn't it usual for people to dance at prom? Or did you conveniently forget that aspect?" I snap.

Dancing and falling go hand in hand with balance-challenged people like me. Plus, I don't know how to dance. I have never done it before - unless you count that time when I was fourteen and really got into the song I was singing off-key in the shower. I swayed my hips a bit too much and immediately slipped on the wet tile floor. I have the scar under my arm to prove it.

Edward's gaze strengthens while his voice does the opposite. "I didn't mention it because I knew that it would be a deal breaker for you. Actually, I was thinking of offering you a compromise of sorts. We go but we won't dance around all those people. Would that make you feel better?"

My ears perk up. He has already sworn to keep me upright during the night. Dancing was the last stumbling block. And he may have just removed it.

"That does sound a little bit better," I reply slowly.

Edward's eyes form a hopeful sparkle. "Does that mean you'll go with me?"

I take a second to examine him for traces of dishonesty. He is normally a kind and considerate guy. But he is also smart and sneakier than a snake.

"You promise that we won't dance?" I stress.

He sits up with perfect posture, raising his hand up as though we are in a courtroom. "I swear that there will be absolutely no dancing in the gym when I take you to the prom."

My head falls back to his shoulder. "OK," I answer in a grin.

He leans into my ear and speaks. "Thank you, love. I'll make sure that we both have a unforgettable experience that night."

My eyes dart up and give a reproachful stare. "Every night with you is unforgettable, Edward."

A fake frown puckers his lips out. "I'm jealous. I should have said that to you."

I struggle to contain a smile. "Hey, I can't help it that my brain works faster than yours," I shrug.

He chuckles and squeezes me closer. "Undoubtedly, it does. Your beauty tends to overwhelm me."

Now that dancing is off the table, prom doesn't sound so bad. As long as I remain seated the entire time, no disasters can take place. I can watch our friends have a nice time and no one can complain that I didn't go. Also, I can send Mom a picture of me in a dress that isn't all black and doesn't involve a funeral in any way - her lifelong dream come true.

With my mind made up, I huff an inaudible laugh and start counting to twenty. Last weekend when I was wondering if I should get Edward to try a tamale since he isn't very familiar with multicultural foods, Alice had the address of a Mexican restaurant plus a reservation set up for the two of us before my thought was even complete. Since I am in need of a formal dress, I'm sure she's chomping at the bit to get me to the nearest department store. She has only mentioned how we should go shopping one or two thousand times.

But as the seconds - and then minutes - slip away, nothing happens.

My forehead scrunches down. "Edward? Do you have your phone with you?"

"Yes. It's in my pocket. Why?"

"Oh. Well, now that we've decided to go, I thought Alice would materialize in front of me, or at the very least, call me. Isn't she usually the one that wants to drag me around shopping for useless stuff? Now that I need her, she's a no-show."

He sits up straighter with his brow hung low. "Hmm... You're right."

The swing sways in the breeze as we attempt to sort through the conundrum. Alice isn't out of town. She just hunted yesterday. She should be at home at this very moment with full access to a phone...

"I think I have a couple of hypotheses for you that may explain why," interrupts Edward.

"Let's hear them."

"All right. She hasn't called you because either A) she suddenly has no interest in dressing you or giving you makeovers. Or, B) she has a rack of formal dresses of your exact size stashed inside of her closet that she bought months ago just in case this situation ever arose."

My head bobs up and down. Edward has lived with Alice for so long that he can practically read her mind. It's a little scary.

"The second one sounds the most likely," I agree.

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Alice shows up early at my house and drags me out of bed - ruining my plans of sleeping late on a Saturday. Today she is helping me find a prom dress, but I'm not really happy about it. Trying on a bunch of clothes is not my idea of a fun weekend. Part of me wants to tell her to shove a hand into her closet, yank out a dress at random, and I'll just go with that. But I know Alice would never let me get out of it so easily. Her greatest joy is the hunt for the "perfect outfit" - for both herself and others.

I dress myself slowly to delay the inevitable, but she still manages to usher me inside the Cullen mansion by ten o'clock in the morning. She flings open the front door and then my jaw flops to the floor. Their living room has morphed into a Macy's stockroom. Dresses are piled on the furniture. Dresses hang from numerous racks. Dresses spill out from huge trunks. When Alice mentioned that she had a few for me to choose from, I didn't realize that she meant a few dozen.

"Good morning, Bella. Have you had your breakfast yet?" asks a mountain of satin and taffeta. I squint until I catch sight of Esme's white hand waving from behind the pile of pink.

I shoot Alice a pointed stare. "No, I haven't. Someone said that we didn't have that kind of time to waste."

Alice closes the front door and floats up to my side. "Wrong," she retorts perkily. "It took you over an hour to shower and dress yourself. Then - when you acted like it would take an additional hour just to whip up something to eat - I said that you were intentionally wasting our time and that you could grab something once we got here."

My lips pucker into a frown. Stupid perfect vampire memory...

Esme hops up from her armchair, vanishes for approximately half of a second, and reappears with a cart laden with food. "I was hoping you'd say that. I made plenty of waffles this morning. They're one of Edward's favorites," she smiles as she encourages me to take a seat.

I unfurl a napkin and place it on my lap. At the same time, my gaze wanders up the stairs. "Has he eaten yet?" I ask in a nonchalant sort of way. I wonder if I can make it up to his room before Alice notices? Since her focus right now is centered on which dress I should try on first, I may have a good shot...

"Oh, yes, he ate a while ago," replies Esme. "But I'm afraid that he couldn't enjoy it as much as I would have liked. He had to rush through it. Emmett and Jasper wanted to get on the road before nine o'clock."

I pause in my chewing and stare a moment. I quickly swallow down some orange juice so I can talk without choking. "He's not here?"

Alice answers me while fluffing up a puffy white dress that is reminiscent in size and shape to a parade float. "Um-hmm. All three of the boys are gone. And Carlisle is working a shift at the hospital. If they had stayed, Edward would have made it his mission to find out what you'll be wearing next weekend. He also isn't above persuading the other men to help in the dirty work. They would have ruined the surprise. So we sent them all away for a few hours so we can work in peace."

"Where did he go?"

"Seattle. There's some civil war exhibition being held there until the end of the month. Jazz wanted to go check its accuracy." She straightens up for a moment and breathes out a heavy sigh. "He still hasn't gotten over the fact that when he enlisted, the recruiter accidentally wrote his name on the roster as Casper. Literacy rates weren't very impressive back in 1863."

I can't stop the pout forming on my lips. Spending my day sightseeing with Edward and looking at old civil war artefacts sounds a lot more fun than what Alice probably has scheduled for today. "I wouldn't have minded going to Seattle, too," I grumble.

She drops the dress she had been fussing with and twirls around, her face lighting up. "That's a great idea. Staying here and picking out a nice dress does sound boring. Give me a minute to call up a few of my favorite stores up in Seattle and I'll let them know we're coming. And I'll be sure to tell Alphonso down at Nordstrom to reserve the women's department for our use exclusively. While we're looking through their dresses, we can go ahead and begin shopping for your summer clothes too. Are you wearing comfortable shoes? We'll be doing a lot of walking today," she ends on a chipper note.

My eyes narrow on her smiling face. The downside to being friends with a creature who has been on this planet decades longer than you is that she knows all the tricks to get you to bend to her will. She knows good and well that I would rather have a tooth yanked out without novocaine than be subjected to a long shopping excursion. I guess I'll be stuck here for the rest of the day.

I'm almost finished with breakfast when Esme says Rosalie's name aloud in a gentle voice. A heartbeat later, the blonde stands at the bottom of the staircase.

"What?" she asks, never so much as glancing my way.

"Why don't you join us, dear? We're having a girls day. Doesn't that sound nice?" Esme remarks in a sunny tone.

Rosalie's amber eyes freeze into ice cubes. "Marvelous."

Esme must be good at overlooking Rosalie's sarcasm and subtle hatred towards human girls. She coaxes Rosalie to take a seat and instructs her to "help us find Bella the perfect dress for her special day". Judging by the way Rosalie is immersing herself in her manicure buffing, I'm going to guess she doesn't care if I show up on prom night in a potato sack.

A folding screen has been set up in the corner of the room, becoming a makeshift changing area. Alice thrusts dress after dress in my direction to try on but none are what I was hoping for. They are either too frilly or too flamboyant for my taste.

Next I am handed a green sequined dress that gleams like a jewel. It's also tighter than a straight jacket. It takes approximately five minutes of struggling just to get it past my head.

Unable to bend or breathe adequately due to the constricting fabric, I shuffle barefoot from behind the screen. I take tiny, Morticia Addams footsteps since I can barely walk. It feels like someone rolled me up in a rug and duct-taped it around my body.

"How lovely!" beams Esme. Esme never voices a critical opinion. She doesn't have it in her. Each dress is "lovely" in her eyes.

Alice circles around me, studying the dress closely. "This wasn't exactly what I was picturing when I bought this for you... What do you think, Rose?"

Rosalie huffs a breath before looking up from her fingernails. She stares for a split second and her eyes widen, exposing the yellow-gold irises. Her face snaps in Alice's direction. "You put her in that?" she emphasizes.

"Well, yeah. It almost matches Edward's eyes. Don't you think so?"

Her blonde brow arches. "Yes, it does. But it also makes her look like a seaweed wrap."

I gasp for air with my crushed lungs and fight lightheadedness. "It feels like it, too. It's a little too tight for me, Alice."

Probably foreseeing me toppling over at any moment, Alice supports me back to the changing area. Although we try to pry the dress off, it won't budge. She has no choice but to rip the fabric at the seams until I am free, her cold fingers acting as the jaws of life.

Once I can breathe normally again, more dresses are tried on. My spirits plummet by the minute. Although Alice is a good friend and only wants to help, I have to be firm with her or else she will put me into the most ridiculous dresses you could find. She likes to stand out from the crowd in her outfits. I don't. So when she urges me to try on a canary yellow one with wispy feathers, I glare and say that I thought she had better taste than urging me to wear a dress that looks more like a Bird Bird costume than something I would wear out in public. One dress she gives me hangs precariously from a lone shoulder and exposes more of my midriff that I am comfortable with. I have to explain to Alice the concept of wardrobe malfunctions and how I do not want to be part of that statistic.

Dress number twenty-seven slips on and I step out from behind the screen. Esme straightens up and clasps her hands together. "Oh, my! That one is simply beautiful!"

"That's the same thing that you said three dresses ago," comments Rosalie as she paints her thumbnail.

"Well...that one was beautiful," Esme drawls. "But this one is even more so."

I gaze into the giant mirror and study my reflection. The dress is pretty. And it's not nearly as gaudy as most of the other ones I tried on. But I'm not sure I can pull off wearing it. It's off the shoulder and made with dark blue silk, the hemline ending a few inches above my knees. I've never worn something so short and feminine before.

Alice halts digging through a trunk and flies across the room. "Finally! Something decent we can put into the 'Maybe' pile. Although, I think it's safe to say that we've found the right one for you."

"Are you sure?" I ask, nibbling on my bottom lip. "You don't think it's too... revealing?"

"Of course not. You're just showing off a little leg," she assures me while adjusting the shoulder area of the dress.

Esme's smile grows. "That's right. It's perfect for a girl your age. And it compliments your skin tone so well! Edward will love it just as much as we do. He will be smitten by it."

Rosalie glances up for a second before resuming her manicure. "The dress isn't all he'll be smitten by," she remarks ominously.

"What do you mean by that, dear?"

The bottle of nail polish in Rosalie's hand is placed upon the table and she leans back in her chair. "He is practically a grown man who - up until recently - had never seen skin above a woman's ankle. Now you're giving him a whole lot more to enjoy." She looks me in the eye - something that she hasn't done in weeks. "I hope you don't mind being manhandled. If you don't like it, just aim for the groin. Works every time."

A wave of pink washes over me and heats my face. I had hoped that Rosalie and I could look past our differences and find common ground, but this wasn't what I had in mind.

Esme's head swings from side to side, her expression earnest. "Oh, no. Edward would never behave that way. He is a good boy."

"So is Emmett - up until he sees something he likes. I wore a dress similar to that one a few years ago. He snatched it off almost as soon as he saw it." Rosalie cracks a smile, the first one I have ever seen on her face. "We were occupied for the rest of the week."

The flames burning my face flare into an inferno. At the same moment, Alice flits up to me with a new dress slung across an arm and holds it out for me to take. When I make no move for it, her eyes dart up. She silently takes stock of my blushing face and then glances at the red dress she holds. Her lips purse out as she tosses it aside. "Red clashes with her cheeks," she mutters to herself.

After my face fades back to normal, we push on with the search. But thirty minutes and several gowns later, I give up and admit that I won't find a better dress than the dark blue one.

Alice does a little happy dance and grins. "You made the right choice. It's simple but classy. Now it's on to the shoes."

Collapsing onto a chair, I see dark spots swirling in front of my eyes. I'm not used to unzipping myself out of a hundred different items of clothing in the span of two hours. "W-what?" I sputter in an exhausted daze.

"Shoes! You know, those things you wear on your feet? What did you think? That you'd wear your white Keds to the prom?" Then she giggles a laugh that bounces off the walls.

But I don't join in on the laughter. I flick my attention down to my lap, avoiding her eyes.

She sucks in a gasp. "Oh my god... You were!" she moans.

I shrug up a shoulder. "They're nice. You can wear them with nearly anything."

"Nearly anything," she stresses. "But not a formal gown! You'd be the laughing stock of the school."

She dashes over to a trunk, pulls out a pair of sparkly blue shoes, and carefully places them into my hands as though they are idols which should be worshipped. They have long, thin heels - like spikes on a medieval weapon. Wearing them would add several inches to my height. I would almost be standing at eye level with Edward if I wore them - providing that I could stay upright, of course. And that is highly doubtful.

Holding the high heels out by their straps, I dangle them in front of her pale face. "I can't wear these things."

Alice places her arms upon her hips. "How do you know? You haven't tried them on yet."

"I can barely walk barefoot and not lose my balance. So how am I going to walk around in five inch heels without breaking my neck?"

Her bottom lip juts out and her eyes grow wide. "But they're so pretty, Bella. They're perfect for the look you're going for. And as for falling, don't worry about it. You'll have Edward there to help you."

"That's right. But he will help walk me around - not carry me," I hiss.

I want sensible flats but Alice insists that heels are a must. Through Esme's advanced negotiations skills, we compromise on a pair of plain midnight blue kitten heels. They are less intimidating than the other shoe choices, plus I am assured that I have a better shot at walking in them without twisting an ankle. However, two inch heels are still hazardous for a girl like me. Alice recommends trying to walk around in them until I can get the hang of it. It's probably a good idea since I've never worn anything like high heels before.

I take a few practice steps without falling and smile at myself. "I did it!" I exclaim proudly.

"You sure did. But how about you stop holding on to the back of the couch like it's a baby walker and let's see how you do on your own."

My mouth sinks into a frown. As the only sentient being in this house who is breakable, dying while merely trying to move from point a to point b is a real possibility.

I reluctantly release my grip on the couch. Now that I have nothing to hold on to, I take wobbly steps that probably have me looking like a seventeen year old wino. By instinct, my arms spread out tightrope-walker style as I try to cross the Cullen living area. When I reach the other side of the room without stumbling to the floor, I almost take a bow.

But I am the only one in the room that's impressed by this accomplishment. Alice stands nearby with folded arms, quietly studying my feet (which unnerves me since I can't even guess what she may be plotting up in that head of hers).

"I have an idea," she murmurs. "Give me a sec and I'll be right back." Having vanished from sight for less time than what she had said, she's back with something clutched by her side. It's a hardcover book.

I give a scoffing laugh. "I didn't know they publish books on how to walk in heels."

She flashes a faint smile. "Actually, this is just an old fairytale book. And you're not reading it. It's going on your head. You need to improve your posture and sense of balance. That's all you're lacking."

"But, Alice... I don't have a sense of balance. I was born without it."

"And that's why this is going on your head. You are going to practice until you learn how to walk properly."

I am ordered to keep my arms by my sides and my face pointed across the room as I walk. But the book won't cooperate. It tumbles off my head continuously. No matter how hard I try, I can't walk and balance it at the same time. But if one of us has to go down, I'd rather it be the book than me.

"Come on, Bella! Stop looking at your feet. It's throwing you off!" barks Alice as the book slides off my head for the hundredth time.

"I'm looking so I won't trip on anything."

"There isn't anything down there. I moved everything out of your path."

"But I might trip over my other foot," I remind her.

Alice moves in front of me and places the book back on the top of my skull. Her icy fingers raise my chin upwards. "You are too paranoid. Stop worrying about your feet. Let your confidence guide you."

I blink back at her. Confidence? I don't have much of that either.

From behind me, Esme's encouraging voice drifts around the room. "Think of happy things while you walk that will lift your spirits. Like...how lovely of a time you'll be having come next Saturday."

Taking a deep breath, I make another go at it but the book falls within three footsteps. Alice immediately sets it on my head again. This time the book drops after just one step. She puts it back. Then it slides off before I even move an inch.

Her dark eyebrows slant downwards. "Stop slouching. The cavemen on an evolutionary chart have better postures than you do."

My back goes ramrod straight and I flash her a dirty look. I keep my head high and take tiny, determined steps. At the halfway point of the room, Esme cries out in joyous celebration.

"You're doing much better, dear! Are you thinking happy thoughts?"

"Yes. I'm imagining slapping Alice repeatedly." Imagining is all I can do. If I really tried it, I would likely crack a bone in my hand.

I hear a snort and my head snaps around, sending the book to the ground. The corners of Rosalie's mouth are slightly raised as she reads from a car magazine.

Gee, I'm on a roll. She looked, spoke, and laughed at me today. Who knew that insulting Alice would help bridge the gap between us.

0000000000000000000

A week later, I'm up in my bedroom with a stomach full of knots. Alice applies a coat of mascara to my eyelashes and begs me to stop rubbing my face. Wearing makeup is something I rarely bother with. But it is deemed mandatory tonight.

Edward will be here to pick me up soon and I'm suddenly unsure of myself. Of everything, really. Maybe prom is a mistake. I never quite mastered the art of walking in my kitten heels. We can just hang around the house tonight instead of risking disaster. And maybe this wasn't the best dress after all. I probably should have chosen something baggier. And much, much longer.

My eyes dart to my closet and quietly speculate on what pair of slacks might be considered nice enough to wear underneath my dress. In no time, Alice gives a mumbled "don't even think about it" warning that deprives me of all hope.

She's putting the final touches to my curled, wavy hair when her eyes glaze over for a nanosecond. Then she announces that Edward has just turned on to my street. Nerves rattle my insides.

A few minutes pass by and Alice declares that I am ready. She pulls me up from my chair and leads me like a frightened donkey out into the hallway. As she coaxes me to move forward, Edward's voice floats up the staircase. When my foot lands on the top step, I catch sight of him. His back is turned towards me while he has a conversation with Charlie near the front door. Without warning, his entire frame turns and our eyes meet.

I inhale a breath and hold it.

Edward in tuxedo good. Very good.

While my brain flat lines, a smile that could melt steel spreads across his face. He went with the formal - yet timeless - black tie look. It's perfect. And dazzling. Alice supports one side of me while my other hand clings to the handrail - otherwise I would be rolling down these stairs like the boulder from Raiders Of The Lost Ark. My sense of balance hasn't improved a bit. But seeing Edward out of jeans and in something classically masculine is more dizzying than being spun around in circles fifty times.

He and I have dinner at a little Italian place in Port Angeles. The hostess seats us in a booth near the back of the restaurant, which boasts a quaint view of the city pier. Edward slips in beside me, doing that annoying thing where a couple sits directly beside one another in the booth instead of having the table separate them. Of course - since it's us in this scenario - I have no problem with this taboo. If the other patrons are staring and tutting their disapproval behind our backs, I wouldn't know. I can't keep my eyes off of him.

Prom is in full swing by the time we show up on the school grounds. He locks an arm around my lower back and walks us to the gymnasium. Music streams out from underneath the closed doors, blending in with the additional sounds of voices and cackling laughter. My fingers dig into his tuxedo sleeve as wave after wave of anxiety washes over me, but he doesn't give me enough time to do anything about it. He shoots a quick wink that knocks my knees together and escorts us inside.

The gym's bright florescent lights are off tonight. String lights similar to the ones you would find on a Christmas tree illuminate the room, giving it a soft and intimate glow. Cheap decorations of glittery stars and crepe paper hang from the walls, yet the effect looks nice instead of tacky. A few students mingle together on the sidelines, watching the goings-on around them. However, the majority are swaying back and forth to the slow song that's playing.

I glance away from the dance floor and spot all four Cullen "teens" standing nearby. Alice wears an elegant, jet black dress and a ridiculously tall pair of high heels that I doubt a mere human could get around on. And Rosalie has on a red gown with a plunging neckline that probably has ninety percent of the guys in here overheating.

Alice evaluates my current state of appearance with a toothy smile. "That dress is even more perfect for you than I envisioned! Doesn't the color and the lighting in here make it seem as though her skin's glowing, Jasper?" Alice gushes at his side.

Jasper, looking dapper in his tux, nods and smiles faintly at me. "Yes it does."

Wow, three words all in the same sentence. He is very talkative tonight.

Alice squints up at my head, her face tilting on its side. "Though I think maybe I should have added just a few more curls to her hair..."

Edward tugs me closer and interrupts her. "It's perfect."

Her grin rises to radioactive levels when her attention arrives at my feet. "And see, Bella? I told you that the more you walk around in heels the easier it will be. Flats just don't give the same effect as a good pair of heels."

I fight off an eye roll. "The only reason I'm standing upright is because I've been hanging onto Edward all night long."

"Whoa!" I turn my head slightly and catch Emmett eyeing my lower half. "Who knew that sweet little Bella had such great gams?" he bellows in a sonic boom.

My face mimics a fireball as I scan around to see if anyone heard that. Emmett's great at eliciting this reaction out of me - even when he uses old slang terms from a 1940s gangster film. What with my easily triggered blushing episodes and tendency to fall in the most unusual of ways, I think he regards me as a free source of entertainment.

Rosalie whacks the back of his skull. "Try to be a gentleman for once, moron," she glares.

"But I was giving her a compliment," he whines.

"Real men compliment a woman's beauty."

His thick brow ridge lowers. "What? So I should have said she has beautiful legs instead?"

Her eyes briefly clench shut. "You are hopeless," she hisses. Snatching his humongous hand, she begins towing him away. "Let's dance before you get the chance to say anything else to humiliate me tonight."

Alice's eyes brighten further. "Yes! Dancing! We've been waiting for you to show up before we lost ourselves in the music." She pauses and gazes back with slightly pouted mouth. "I wish you two would reconsider dancing with us. It would be so much fun."

Edward squeezes my hand. "We'll have a good time. Don't worry about us."

"Yeah. You guys go on ahead and we'll watch," I add.

Heaving a sigh, she takes Jasper's arm and heads to the dance area. "OK," she says in a disappointed little voice.

I feel bad for approximately three seconds. Then I remember that I am staying away from the dance floor for the safety of myself and others. Alice should be thanking me for my consideration.

Edward steers us to a bench and helps me to sit without falling or accidentally flashing my underwear to the world. We sit hand in hand while a few of our friends and acquaintances drift up every so often to say hello. But mostly we watch them dance. I smile when I see the Cullens' unique style. While the modern teens aren't doing anything more advanced than rocking from side to side, the school vampires are doing graceful ballroom steps - making them more noticeable than ever.

When the slow dance ends, a fast and loud song blasts from the DJs speakers. Most of our classmates do a weird, hopping type dance that looks sort of fun. But a couple of people out there dance as though we're at a college rave instead of a high school crawling with chaperones who are all over the age fifty-five. Lauren Mallory grinds her butt into her date and tries to do the sort of moves that would probably make Christina Aguilera blush. The people around them giggle openly at her awkwardness. Meanwhile, her poor date stands with arms frozen at his sides and helplessly looks all around for an escape route. Evidently he isn't having a very good time. If there is such a thing as nonconsensual dancing, I think this may be it.

But I think the expression on Edward's face tops it all. His mouth gaps open inches wide while his eyes reflect a mix of shock and horror. With one finger, I gently close his mouth and try not to laugh at his reaction. I guess this is the first time he has seen raunchy dancing. In 1918, having one hand on your date's hip was probably as titillating as it got.

He has barely recovered from the situation when things out on the dance floor take a different turn. Tyler, balancing two cups of fruit punch, accidentally spills everything he was carrying in the middle of the dance area. Bright red liquid flings onto Lauren, drenching everything from her hair all the way down to her shoes. Her squawking of outrage probably can be heard from the International Space Station. When she runs to the bathroom to dry off, her date scrambles for the exit.

A few songs later, Mike and Jessica stroll up to us. Her excited gaze lands on Edward's face and travels slowly downwards, taking in his appearance in all his tuxedoed glory. She must like what she sees because her eyes are lingering longer than they should considering her boyfriend stands a foot away.

"You look great, Edward!" she compliments once her eyes have had their fill. She gives me a quick glance, as though she just noticed that I am sitting here. "And you look nice too, Bella," she remarks with less enthusiasm.

"Thanks," I mumble.

Then her mouth opens up and she talks for five minutes straight, telling me every gossipy story from the night that she has gathered so far. I feign interest and nod every so often. Mike doesn't say a word, choosing to only look down at me in a strange way that has my nerves at high alert. And Edward stares at Mike with his jaw muscle clenched so tight that a crowbar couldn't crack his mouth open.

"Are you guys gonna go to Justin's party later?" Jessica wonders.

My mouth twists to the side. "I doubt it."

"Oh, come on! He's been planning it for weeks! Tell them, Mike. Tell them how much fun it's gonna be!"

Mike blinks a few times, as if waking up from a dream. His empty face swivels around to her. "What?" he drawls in confusion.

Her eyes revolve in their sockets. "It's like your head's in the clouds tonight. I said, tell Bella and Edward how fun Justin's party is supposed to be. They weren't planning on going."

His tongue moves across his lips. "Oh... Yeah, it's gonna be great. His parents are out of town and everything. And he even talked his older brother into getting a few cases of Bud Lite." He pauses and focuses deliberately on me again. "You should come."

I can't hold in the laugh that slips out. Justin's house is right in the middle of a neighborhood which is comprised of families with young children and several retirees. None of them would likely appreciate having a house party keeping them up until the crack of dawn.

"No thanks," I answer. "The last place I want to be is at a party where there will be drunken high school kids. My dad's a police officer, remember? And the people in this town see everything. I bet you he'll get a noise complaint about them before the first beer can is popped open."

They both stare back as though I just tried to explain quantum mechanics to them.

Edward rises from the bench from which we were sitting and takes my hand, gently encouraging me to stand.

"I think we should go get a drink now that the refreshments line is empty," he remarks casually. He gives Mike and Jessica a small head nod as he wraps his arm around my waist. "Excuse us. We'll try to catch up with you two again later."

Jessica turns on a big smile. "Sure. See ya later."

We maneuver past dancing couples and oblivious students chatting in the middle of the walkway. Edward keeps a firm grip on me, which I am grateful for since walking in these kitten heels is tricky. As we approach the refreshments table, I see that it is manned by Coach Clapp. I'm guessing he was chosen to deflect pranksters away from spiking the punchbowl. He's dressed in a nice polo shirt and khakis, a decidedly different look from his usual sweats and shiny whistle strung around his neck.

But instead of slowing down and stopping, Edward guides us right on by.

"The table's back that way," I remind him with a thumb jerk behind me.

A smile cocks up the side of his mouth. "I know. I just wanted to get away from everyone for awhile. You don't mind if we go outside, do you?"

I shake my head. Alone time always is good in my eyes. "No."

We reach the back door and I inhale the cool outside air. One of the picnic tables that are meant for lunch-time meals - but which usually sits empty thanks to the poor weather - is where he guides us. I lean back on my elbows and gaze up at the sky, only half listening to the music which flows from the gymnasium. It's one of those rare nights when the clouds are scattered around instead of bound tightly together like a wool blanket. You can actually see the stars. And the moon is out too. Its muted, soft beams give just enough light to see by.

"Have I told you how sublimely ethereal you look tonight?" Edward asks, still towering above me.

I glance away from the sky and turn my attention to him. He's watching me closely, both hands slipped inside of his trouser pockets.

"No, but you did mention that I was 'a vision of loveliness' when you first saw me. I was 'charming and gorgeous' at the restaurant. And I was 'breathtakingly exquisite' on the ride here. I think that it's time we have your eyes examined," I smirk.

"I see perfectly well. And so it seems do most of the males that have been fortunate enough to see you tonight."

My nose crinkles up as I give him the side-eye. Yep. This boy definitely needs glasses.

"Edward, no boy in their right mind would bother looking at me when Rosalie is in there gliding around like a modern-day Aphrodite," I remind him in case he suffers from a sudden case of amnesia.

"I am completely sane and I can wholeheartedly confirm that you are unbelievably desirable."

My eyebrow arches at him. "Unbelievably? I think that's the key word here."

Observing me a moment, something changes behind his eyes. They sharpen, transforming to deeply penetrating orbs. He bends down and closes in, simultaneously brushing my hair from my shoulders. His mouth comes to rest against the shell of my ear and lingers there.

"I suppose I should spend the remainder of the night convincing you of just how desirable you are then," he whispers.

My whole body breaks out into hundreds of goosebumps. And it's not from the slight chill in the air.

His fingers slip into my hair, cradling the back of my head. Lips attach to my neck and travel in a meandering path until they find my face. The kiss he places at the corner of my mouth is soft but hints at more to come.

But more doesn't happen.

His mouth pulls away from my skin. Then his arms leave me too. I crack my eyes open to see why he stopped, assuming only an emergency situation could be the culprit. But I find no zombie apocalypses or school authority figures lurking around which would explain his abandonment. All I see is Edward just standing there a foot away.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

He bows at the waist like an medieval courtier and smiles charmingly. "Asking you to dance - if you don't mind," he replies with an outstretched hand.

My eyelids snap open at this alarming development. "I very much do mind. You promised no dancing!"

His smile stays smugly in place. "I know what I said. I promised that we would not dance inside of the gym. And as you can see, we are outdoors. It's just you, me, and the moon right now. So... May I have this dance?"

I am on the verge of arguing when my mouth clamps shut. He's right. The big sneak arranged his words in just the right way to make me believe I was in the clear concerning the whole dancing thing. Starting now, I guess I should get a lawyer to examine every promise Edward gives so I'll know when I am being tricked.

My head jolts from side to side. "I-I can't. I've never done this before. And I'll fall," I answer while avoiding his eye.

"Falling isn't so bad." He takes my hand and rubs comforting strokes across my knuckles. I peek up and instantly become lost in his gaze. "You may find that falling for me would be something you could enjoy," he adds in a husky purr.

My tongue ties into a double knot. I'm a little woozy too. Sometimes Edward is too smooth for my own good.

While I am discombobulated, he lifts me by the hand into a standing position. I blink back the daze and swallow.

"I wasn't aware that they had pick-up lines back in 1918," I murmur.

"That wasn't a line. It was a hopeful plea," he counters.

Drawing me into his embrace, his arms encircle my waist while I remain stiff and clueless. He sets the rhythm and sways us to the slow song seeping out from inside of the gym. I grudgingly admit to myself that dancing like this is similar to how it feels to be on the front porch swing at home - soothing from the gentle movements, and heart-racing from having Edward hold me tight.

My mouth lowers at the corners. "You don't fight fair. Even when I should be furious with you, you find a way to make it impossible for me to be."

I feel him huff a nearly silent laugh. "I'm sorry. I'll try to be more of a cad to you in the future."

Gradually, my arms wrap around his neck and my head falls on a shoulder. He's good at keeping me upright. Heck, who am I kidding? He's good at just about everything. I let out a tiny sigh and relax into him.

"Is tonight as terrible as you imagined? Or were your nightmares of the prom much worse than this?" he jokes into my ear.

I answer him with closed eyes. "I guess this isn't so bad."

"I'm happy to hear it." The slow song ends and another one takes its place. Edward clears his throat. "Do you mind if I make a request?" he wonders.

I back up slightly to scrutinize his face. He tricked me once and it turned out OK in the end. But it won't be happening again tonight.

"It depends on what you want. If your 'request' involves us dancing inside of that gym, then I'm out."

"No, nothing like that. I only ask that you stand completely still."

My face scrunches together but I do as he asks. "OK. Now what?"

Slyly smiling as though hiding a secret, he throws in a wink to hypnotize me. Alarm bells clang in my head.

"Now, just allow me to lead," he directs.

An instant later, I'm crushed up against him with my feet suspended several inches above the grass. The only thing holding me up are his arms. The crook of my elbows lock around his neck until it's almost a choke hold.

"Edward!" I yelp, terrified that I will be slipping out from underneath his grip at any moment.

His lips purse and he blows out a soothing shush, like a mother comforting her child. "Try to relax. I'd like to dance with you properly before the night ends."

The next thing I know, we are on the move. His feet glide across the ground, twirling us around in a dance style that harks back to olden times. I look up and find his eyes closed. A small smile is etched onto his handsome face.

The world around us spins from his dance - but since we're in this together - it's not nearly as frightening. When his steps become more complex, I hang on tighter but don't want it to end. Because, ultimately, I trust him. I find myself giddy from the feeling. The laughter that pours out is pure and genuine.

When I look up again, his eyes are open and glued on to me. The warmth of his fingertips filter through the thin silk of my dress as his arms hold me up by the waist.

At the same moment, a tiny spark of jealousy cocks up my brow. Edward is more advanced than ninety-nine percent of our classmates when it comes to this. He knows how to dance. Really dance. He can do a lot more than just rock back and forth. And I doubt back in 1918 he was off spinning around by himself. He probably had a line of girls circling the block, waiting for their chance to waltz with him.

"I thought that you said that you never went to any of those fancy balls, Edward," I accuse.

He keeps on with the fancy footwork, his movements matching the beat of the music. "I didn't. But that never stopped my mother from insisting that I should know how to dance correctly."

A smile replaces my jealousy, picturing Mrs. Masen teaching a young Edward to dance long ago. It took a few decades, but finally he is getting some use from those lessons. I'm sure she is proud, wherever she may be.

"Is there anything you can't do?" I breathe out.

His smile matches my own. "Definitely. I can't stay away from you for one thing."

My heart swells inside of my chest. I want to say something witty to express how I feel. But I can't.

I pull his face towards me and tell him with my lips what I cannot say in words. They move slowly against his, but that is not enough. I seek out more and more, my mouth moving incessantly. Our spinning dance comes to a halt and he focuses everything on me. I know - without a doubt - that I am the luckiest person on the planet.

We're really getting into the moment when a sound like a screaming howler monkey rattles our eardrums. Our mouths break apart to find a nearby figure slamming the gym doors closed.

Edward carefully lowers my feet back to the ground as I stare at the person stomping around on the sidewalk. Another angry scream that rivals a banshee's wail fills the night air.

"Jessica?" I say in a puzzled tone.

Jessica stops moving and squints into the darkness. When she catches sight of Edward and me standing off in a grassy area, she releases a disgruntled sigh and marches over.

"What's wrong?" I ask once she arrives.

Her mouth smashes together for a split second. "Nothing! Or everything! I don't know."

I sneak a quick peek at Edward to find him appearing as worried as I am. "Are you OK? You're not hurt, are you?" I say softly.

A small amount of Jessica's tenseness evaporates, her rigid shoulders relaxing. "I'm not hurt or anything like that. I'm just really, really ticked right now," she emphasizes.

"What happened to you?"

She drops onto the bench of the picnic table and her brows crash together, forming a single line. "It's just that I discovered something tonight. Mike's a jerk!"

Uh-oh. Please, oh please let it be something small and they'll kiss and make up later...

I sit down next to her while leaving a foot of space between us - just in case she's the type to thrash her arms around when she vents her anger. "What did he do?"

Jessica pivots her face to the side and stares daggers at the gymnasium. "Well, let's see... I told him three weeks ago that I would be wearing a pale pink dress for our prom, so I wanted him to buy me a pink rose corsage to match it, right? Well, guess what he showed up with tonight?" Her wrist shoots up to display the large sunflower attached there. "This! Does this thing look anything like a rose to you? And see how yellow it is? It totally ruins my look!"

I make my face sympathetic even though having a sunflower instead of a rose doesn't sound that horrible to me. "I'm sorry about that, Jess. Mike probably didn't mean any harm though. Maybe the florist ran out of roses."

She snorts and shakes her head. "Yeah, but that's not all he did wrong tonight. He and I were dancing and he kept stepping on my toes." Her feet lift up and turn from one side to the other. The light pink heeled sandals have black scuff marks all over them. "I just bought these last week. Now they look like I dug them out of the dumpster behind the Goodwill."

My face crumples together uneasily. "Maybe he just needs dance lessons?"

She barks out a loud laugh. "But that's not the worst part about what he did tonight, Bella. I had to go sit down to check on the toes that he smashed, and he wandered off to go get me something to drink. So I waited, and waited, and waited for him to come back. After what seemed like forever, I got tired of waiting and went to find him. Guess what he was doing?"

I shrug my shoulders in response.

"He was standing in the corner talking to Stacy White - that's what he was up to!" she screeches. "Did he have my drink? No. Did he care that I was waiting for him to come back? No!"

"Oh, Jess..."

Her shoulders straighten and her dark eyes harden. "So I walked up to him and asked what was taking him so long. He told me that when he was coming back with my drink, he noticed that Stacy was all by herself... And can you guess who he gave my drink to?"

"Stacy?" I answer reluctantly.

"Bingo. So I told him that since he was so concerned over her welfare that maybe he should have asked her to the prom instead of me. And do you know what he said?" she grunts, her gaze blazing.

My head shakes in the negative. I wish she would stop asking me questions that only serve to piss her off more...

"Well, he got mad at me and said that maybe I was right! So I told him that we were done. I told him that I was tired of him walking all over me. And all he said to me was 'fine' before he just walked off."

My mouth falls into a tiny frown. "I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, me too," she pouts. "I had planned on having hours and hours of fun tonight... Now look at me. I'm dateless at the prom. This is totally humiliating!"

Standing quietly until now, Edward steps in. "Is there anything we can do?"

Jessica's entire face droops and she gazes off across the school campus. "There's nothing you can do to help me now. I guess I'll just go home and see if there's anything good on TV tonight."

Her despondency increases by the second. Jessica spent a month planning out this day. She had her heart set on an evening of fun and romance. Instead, she broke up with her boyfriend and has a bad case of the blues.

No one should suffer alone like this. We might not be able to do anything about the Mike situation, but we can help lift her out of her depression. She needs to know that there are people here for her support. Since Edward was the one to ask if there was anything we could do to help, I figure he won't mind what I have planned.

Out of her view, I grab Edward's attention. I jerk my head in Jessica's direction, trying to subtly hint for him to ask if she would like to hang out with us. He only blinks back at me. My brows crunch together. I tip my head towards him and then aim it back at Jessica a couple of times, hoping he will catch my drift. All he does is shrug his shoulders in a way which tells me that he has no clue what I want him to do.

I sigh and give up playing charades with him. I'll just have to ask her myself.

"Why don't you stick with us for the rest of the night?" I say out loud. As I speak, more ideas come to me which I figure might brighten her evening. "We can go back inside and talk about anything you want... And I'm sure somebody would dance a little with you." I swing my head back around and my attention lands on Edward. He stands there unmoving, as though he is watching a plane crash and can do nothing to stop it. "I'm sure Edward wouldn't mind-"

His eyes almost pop out from his skull. "I'd be happy to find her a willing partner," he stresses. Then he gives me an unmistakable scowl when she isn't looking.

I narrow my eyes at his uncooperative attitude. We're her friends. Jessica needs us to cheer her up. And here he acts as if giving her one little dance will kill him.

Jessica's face spreads into a smile. "Really? That sounds great!" Her entire body begins to tremble with excitement. "Ooh! We can go to the diner afterwards too! Then we can maybe swing by that party I was telling you about if your dad hasn't busted them yet. What time's your curfew anyway? I don't need to be home until 12:30. I think Jennifer said a bunch of the seniors are driving to PA to watch some late night movie. Maybe we can tag along!" She pauses and stares at us, her lips slightly pursed. "What are you two doing out here, anyway?"

Oh, nothing much. Edward was only serenading me under the stars and making me forget how to breathe...

My bottom lip slips under my teeth. "We were just taking a few minutes to relax by ourselves."

Jessica huffs a laugh and jumps up from the bench. Grabbing my hand, she pulls me up to stand along side of her. "But it's so boring out here! All the fun's inside!"

I glance at Edward and find the light in his eyes have dimmed. And the more Jessica's mouth flaps on and on, the more he frowns. But he doesn't argue or complain at all. He is a good boyfriend. I'll have to make this up to him later.

We step through the gym doors and Jessica continues to plan out our night. At the same time, I notice Mike across the gym. He's standing with a group of people, chatting and laughing like he's having a great time.

Something tells me to check on Edward and I discover that his sights are set on Mike. His teeth are gnashing together, too. But my greatest concern are his hands. They are fisted up so tightly that he is going to pop a blood vein if he isn't careful.

I snatch Edward's arm and hold on with all of my strength. If I let go, Mike Newton might be a dead man.

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A/N- Noise-canceling headphones are awesome. Whenever a family member wanders up to ask where the bread, TV remote, or their shoes are - you can point up to your headphones and say "sorry but I can't hear you" and not be lying. It's very relaxing.

Next Chapter- It's Edward's first time trying to creep into Bella's house late at night (with her consent, of course). And Bella discovers something that she probably should have anticipated long ago.

Hang in there folks and thanks for reading! :-)