The next day at school, I wasn't even halfway across the parking lot when I was beset by concerned students. It seemed rather obvious that more students held the opinion that Edward was a person better left alone and that I was therefore their best avenue for recounts and or gossip. Unfortunately, once I had told Jessica why I hadn't been in the path of the van, I noticed a massive uptick in the number of girls who wanted to hear "how Edward Cullen had saved me".

I tried my best to make the story as factual as possible. They didn't seem to care at all that he fainted, so I knew that wouldn't get gossiped about at least, if that was what he was worried about. I didn't say anything about him getting hit, because I knew that he wouldn't want me to and I was prepared to do everything in my power to prove that he could trust me.

It was right before lunch when what that meant really dawned on me; he didn't trust me. He thought that I was going to tell everyone about how he had done something impossible, something that he obviously didn't want anyone to know about, and he had no trust that I would actually be quiet about it. To me, that said he had never had anyone in his life, except maybe his family, who had ever been trustworthy. I wasn't sure if that was more sad because people had treated him so poorly his entire life or because he had given up on the idea that people could be trusted.

As expected, when Jess and I got to the cafeteria, he was sitting alone. He wasn't looking up from his book. His family seemed no different, oblivious as they usually were. I had just enough time between recounting my story to actually wolf down some food before it was time for Biology.

I wasn't sure what to do. When I walked into the door, he was there, first as always. He was stiff and still and made zero effort to acknowledge my existence. I decided to be the bigger person.

"Hello, Edward," I said, sitting down.

He, if anything, got even stiffer. He recrossed his arms and then became motionless for the entire class, utterly immobile. He never said anything, he never did anything. He just sat there, suffering in silence.

This continued for weeks. I stopped saying hello by the end of the first week. The gossip and the conversations stopped. More than one rumor got back to me, that the two of us might start dating, which was completely insane, but by the time the news of how he was acting towards me got around, the rumor ended, along with the vicarious pleasure of more than a few girls I knew.

"It's just too bad," Jess said once, "but, maybe he might start dating soon anyway. You never know!"

I did know. He wasn't going to date, not when he had so completely given up on trusting people. You couldn't date without trust and not when you were so unhappy. And he was unhappy. Happy people didn't behave the way he did. At first, I did want to give him the benefit of the doubt, allow that something in his history might have caused his anger, his rudeness towards me. I wanted to believe that I really wasn't causing him the torment he claimed. But with every passing day, his posture and behavior never changed, never ceased. I was left with only one conclusion. He would rather blame me for his unhappiness than to do something about it. He was choosing to suffer, and I wasn't about to take the blame for that.

Having Edward off my radar seemed to thrill Mike to no end. He spent time with me most days, walking me to Government and Gym, occasionally chatting with me before our classes started. He was a nice guy to have around, easygoing and quick to laugh. Once the weather started to warm up, he said he was looking forward to getting a group of people together for a beach trip. I said I would love to go, especially since he said he was waiting until we got our first sunny weekend. I was looking forward to it immensely.

Then, one Tuesday night more than a month since Edward has spoken to me, not that I was counting, Jess called me out of the blue.

"Hey, Just Bella," she said. "It's Jess."

"I know who it is," I said smiling. "Only two people have called here since I moved back, and you aren't my mom."

"Oh," she said. "We need to get you a social life!"

I chuckled, "What can I do for you Jess?"

"Speaking of getting you a social life," she said, "are you asking anyone to the Spring Formal? It's girl's choice, ya know?"

"Formal what?" I asked.

"The dance!" she said, sounding as though she was having to explain what two plus two was.

"Oh," I said. "I wasn't planning on going. And isn't the concept of girl's choice a little bit-"

"Don't even start with the whole feminist, girl-power thing," she said hastily. "It's fun! Why aren't you going?"

"I don't dance," I said honestly.

"You don't go to a dance to dance," she said. "You go to have fun!"

"Really," I said. "Me dancing would likely involve another trip to the ER. I would be much better off just staying home."

"Okay," she said. "If you say so."

There was a short pause.

"So…" she said slowly, "you don't mind if I ask Mike to the dance then?"

"No," I said offhandedly. So this was why she was calling.

"You really don't mind?" she asked.

"Should I?" I asked.

"No," she said, backpedaling. "I just mean, you two seem rather… friendly, lately."

"That's probably because we are friends," I said, putting emphasis on that last word. "Go ahead and ask him, Jess. I hope you both have a great time."

The next day, I was fully prepared to congratulate Jess, but when we got to Trig, she was quiet and didn't say anything to me at all through lunch. When the group was together, it was easy to see the strain going on between her and Mike.

When we got to Biology, I finally got my answer.

Mike was chatting with me, as he sometimes did, but this time, he was continuing on when the conversation was running on fumes, not wanting to find his seat. I was about to ask when he finally spit it out.

"Jessica asked me to the spring dance," he said, not even with any sort of lead up to the comment.

"That's great," I said.

Immediately his face fell.

"I told her I would have to think about it," he said quietly.

"Why did you say that?" I asked, feeling put off. This explained everything.

"Well," he said. "I was sort of hoping that you could ask me."

Okay, so maybe there was something to why Jess said we had been friendly. Just because I wasn't interested in Mike like that didn't mean the vice versa wasn't true.

"Mike," I said, and his face fell even further.

"You should go with Jess," I said. "You two will have a good time."

"Someone already asked you?" he asked rather rhetorically.

"I'm not going," I said, having thought up this excuse because it was true and I needed one. "I am planning on a day trip to Seattle that Saturday. I won't be getting back until late that night, and I definitely won't be up for dancing after such a trip."

I won't be up for dancing before such a trip, but why bring that up?

"Oh," he said lamely.

"Mike, really," I said, with emphasis, "I say this as your friend; go with Jess. I hope you two crazy kids have tons of fun. Spike the punch. Do whatever you small-town Juniors do for kicks at your formals."

He actually smiled, "If you do end up going, I'll save you a dance."

I watched him go, feeling happy. They would have fun. Jess will get what she wants, and Mike and I will have a solid foundation for a good friendship. It was all I really wanted.

I don't know why it occurred to me then, but now was the time; this was the time, the time my mother had mentioned, the time when I wasn't expecting it. I turned, and his dark eyes were on mine.

If you had asked me before that moment if I missed his eyes, I might have laughed. I might have said that it was stupid to miss them, since they were attached to a boy who chose to be rude and selfish and blaming and suffer, that I wouldn't have thought it was possible to feel anything but more irritation toward him at that point. But as I lost myself in the depths of those dark, fathomless eyes, I felt like something was easing in me, almost like coming home. I relaxed into his gaze, looking upon his face, a face only an idiot would say was not worth looking at. He was still rude but he was so beautiful, and as much as I didn't want to admit it, I really wanted to forgive him.

He didn't look away. Even as Mr. Banner asked some question and Edward answered, he still didn't take his eyes off me. I couldn't look away, didn't want to look away. I wanted to be angry and to hold this grudge and tell him he was a jerk all over again, but in that moment, I couldn't hold onto any of that. All I knew was that-

"I'm sorry," said Mr. Banner, "perhaps I should wait until everyone is PAYING ATTENTION!"

I jumped in my seat, looking towards the front of the room.

"Mr. Cullen?" he asked.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edward finally look forward too. Even called out, even culled as I had been, he hadn't looked away from me. That thought made my insides squirm.

When the bell rang, I was gathering up my book when…

"Bella."

Oh, but I had missed that voice, more so than I would have thought possible. It wasn't that it sounded so lovely, which it did, but there was an entirely different note to it now, as though the way he spoke in class and the way he spoke to me were two entirely different creatures. I knew which I preferred.

Reluctantly, I turned, "Yes?"

He looked resigned. I felt something sink within me. Nothing had changed. Not really.

"Don't," I said. "Just… don't bother."

"What?" he replied. "Why?"

"Look," I said, "I don't know what has happened to you in your past. It isn't any of my business. And I don't know what I did that made you feel tormented, and frankly, I don't really care. What matters is that you have a choice."

I found his eyes, and my words bobbled until I found my pace again.

"And you chose to treat me like a burden to you, as though it would have been more convenient to you if you had just let that van crush me instead."

I finished gathering my books, "I don't care what your excuses are, I didn't deserve that."

I turned and walked away. I tripped over something, or perhaps it was my own two feet, but I didn't have time to catch my books before they were on the floor. I sighed, bending to pick them up, my hand brushing an unusually cold one. I nearly fell, jumping back while kneeling, and wasn't sure why I didn't end up on the ground. He was so close to me, gathering my books and proffering them on one upturned hand.

"You are right," he said as I took them back. "What I did was not only rude, but shameful. What I did was wrong, but what I was trying to do wasn't. I regret the discomfort I have caused you, and I would be remiss if I were to cause you anymore. As much as I…"

He looked away.

"It would be best for you," he said, "if you never spoke to me again. It is better this way, please believe me."

I couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't a happy sound.

"You expect me to trust you," I said harshly, "when you won't return me the same courtesy?"

He came up short.

"You think I don't trust you?" he asked.

"I know you don't," I said. "Otherwise, I would know why I was lying for you."

His expression was so conflicted it was almost comical.

"That is what I thought," I said.

Before I could walk away, he muttered, "You are the most-"

I turned around.

"What?" I asked. He closed his expression to me.

"What?" I asked again. "I am the most what?"

"You are the most infuriating girl I have ever met," he said, attempting to remain dignified as he marched out of the room with a grace that was unfair, considering how I was feeling about him at the moment.

"It's not like the feeling is mutual or anything," I muttered.

Gym was even more disastrous than it always was, since most sports allowed you to do something with your hands and run separately and basketball required you to do both at once. And my already horrible play was so poor that I almost injured other players as well as myself, made all the worse when they were my own team. I swear I heard Coach Clapp mutter something about just passing me and having me do homework on the sidelines. I told myself that my worse than usual playing had nothing to do with a certain infuriating boy of whom I was not thinking about incessantly. By the end of Gym, I was not feeling any less annoyed.

I had nearly strangled myself trying to get the stupid Gym T-shirt off when I finally managed to get back into my usual clothes and was heading to my truck when I stopped short. Someone was standing next to it, and for a moment, I was about ready to start screaming, until I saw that it was Eric.

"Hey," I said, walking up.

He looked nervous, glancing around as if looking for someone.

"Can I help you with something?" I asked.

"Huh?" he said dully, "What? I mean, no. I mean, yes! I was just, you know…"

He mumbled that last bit.

"What was that?" I asked.

"I was just wondering," he said. "Where you going to ask you- me! Ask me, I mean."

"Ask you what?" I asked wearily. What was this?

"To the dance… thing," he said.

It took me a moment to get it.

"You wanted to know if I was going to ask you to the dance?" I asked, incredulous.

"Um… yeah," he said.

"I wasn't planning to," I said politely, though with the day I was having, it might not have sounded that way.

"Do you not want to?" he asked.

"No," I said, but then saw how much his face fell.

"No!" I said. "I don't mean I don't want to ask you. Well, I don't want to ask you, but not because of you. I don't want to ask anyone. I don't really dance, and I am not even going to be in town that night, so…"

It was my turn to trail off. He didn't look exactly mollified, but my words at least gave him the excuse to retreat he had been looking for.

"Oh," he said. "Okay. Thanks."

He turned and positively fled, nearly running down Edward, standing a small distance away.

"What do you want?" I barked at him.

Something in his expression softened, but he just looked at me. Softly. My heart didn't start racing. Nope, not at all. He was just looking at me, as though that was all that he wanted, to look at me. It was crazy! I had to get into my truck before I did something stupid, like blush, or deck him.

Once in the truck, I didn't fare much better. He walked up to the window and tapped on it. I was wondering how I could back up enough to run him down and still make it look like an accident. I bet if he would walk away from one accident, a little nudge wouldn't hurt him. A forty mile an hour nudge.

I turned the window crank, against my better judgment.

"What?" I asked, not looking at him. It was easier to stay mad that way.

"I owe you an apology," he said.

I came up short.

"Just stop," I said. "It is an accident when you are rude the first time. It is a trend when you do it the second time. I am not going to put up with you treating me like dirt."

"I know," he said quickly, but then stopped.

I looked at him. He had his elbow resting on the window frame, one fist clasped loosely in his other hand, both propped under his chin while his eyes were downcast. They then found mine.

"I won't bother denying that I am not telling you everything," he said. "What would be the point? And I won't bother trying to defend my actions because I would only be doing so because I want you to think well of me. And you shouldn't."

That shut me up. I just stared at him.

"I am not staying away from you for my sake," he said. "I am staying away for yours."

Now, I was totally confused.

"I am not going to explain," he said, "but I don't want to just give you excuses anymore. You aren't a burden. I-"

He seemed to come back to himself, stepping back.

"I believe I do want you to think well of me," he said, as though the very notion baffled him. "But if you were to act in your own best interests, you should never speak to me again. You deserve better."

He turned and walked away, just brushing past Tyler who was walking up.

"What was that about?" he asked, watching Edward walk away.

"I have no earthly idea," I admitted. He smiled at me, and something about his posture drew my attention to him.

"He wasn't asking if you were going to ask him to the spring dance too, was he?" he asked roguishly.

"No, I-" I began, but his words sunk in. "What?!"

This could not be happening to me! What the heck was going on?!

Tyler gave me a somewhat charismatic smile, but it was the sort of smile worn by someone who was used to getting his way.

"Would you ask me to the spring formal next Saturday?" he asked.

I had never been asked to a dance in my life. Now, I had been asked out three times in a single day! Were the pickings really so slim here!?

"I will not be in town that day," I said in consternation.

"And that isn't just an excuse until the right guy comes along?" he asked, a knowing look in his eye.

"No!" I expounded, "why won't anyone believe me?"

"Hey," he said grandly, unfazed, "no worries! There is always prom."

He bopped the jam of my open window and walked away. I was fuming so badly, I couldn't get the window to roll up. Despite that, I was determined to scream, so instead of breaking the damn thing, I settled on turning on my engine. It drowned out my cries frustrations nicely. As I finally backed out of the space, I found that there was a nice Silver Volvo behind me. It was the nicest car in the lot, so naturally, Edward was behind the wheel, his entire family with him. As I looked in my rearview mirror, our eyes met, and he smiled, his own version of a knowing smile. It was almost as though he knew I had been screaming and he knew why and something about this whole thing amused him deeply. In a huff, I returned my eyes to the road, revved my engine to get the stragglers out of the way, and drove home with all the haste my aged truck allowed.

I doggedly tried to do my homework in peace. After reading the same paragraph for the seventy seventh time, I gave it up and decided to make dinner. Charlie came in as I was taking fish fillets off the stove and setting them next to roasted veggies and some reheated rice from the night before. We gathered our fixings, I was the only one who had rice, and sat at the table. After what seemed like an hour of silent eating, Charlie seemed to lock on to me.

"What's up with you?" he asked.

"Hm?" I murmured, looking up.

"Something's off," he said. "You weren't this agitated after the van incident. What's up?"

"Nothing," I said, in aggravation.

He tried not to laugh.

"Bells," he said. "I know you can take care of yourself. I respect that. But I am your father and I do need to make sure you are okay from time to time. I'm not good at all the touchy feely stuff, so, unless it is about a boy…"

"It's not about a boy," I said. And it wasn't. Not really.

"Good," he said. "You aren't in any of their leagues anyway."

I was sad to say that hurt quite a lot.

"What?" he asked. "Oh. No! I mean, you're too good for them, that type of not in their league."

"Thanks Dad," I said, feeling a little better.

"So," he guessed, "no one asked you to that dance next Saturday?"

"Dad," I complained. "First, it's girls choice. Second, despite that, I got asked; by three guys. And third, I am planning to be out of town that day."

Charlie looked somewhat apoplectic. He couldn't seem to get a single question out while the others were trying to force themselves out too.

"Three?" he finally managed.

"That's not important," I said. "I said no. I want to take a trip up to Seattle for some new books, maybe do some clothes shopping."

"When were you planning on telling me?" he asked, sounding stern.

"I'm telling you now," I said, trying to keep my voice even.

We both sighed, and the mood calmed down a bit.

"So why aren't you going to the dance?" he asked.

"I said-" I started, but he cut me off.

"You can do both," he said. "There isn't anything stopping you but you."

Crap. I wasn't expecting anyone to question my logic in that regard.

"I will be tired," I said. "Besides, I don't dance."

"Hmmm," he commented. "Point taken."

Charlie wasn't any better at dancing than I was. I thought I recalled him taking down both himself and my mother during their dance at their wedding.

"So why are you so irritable?" he asked. "Sounds like you are getting exactly what you wanted."

That was true. At least, in regards to the dance. I knew what I was irritable about, but I wasn't going to admit to my dad what it was. I could barely admit to myself what it was.

Edward had been in my thoughts all evening. His words kept bouncing around again and again. He was staying away from me for my sake, because I deserved better? I couldn't argue with that. I didn't want some rude jerk in my life, but there was something else there, in the way he said it. He seemed almost sad to have to be staying away from me, resigned, but sad. That made no sense to me at all. He wasn't giving up anything to stay away from me. It just seemed so melodramatic, so unnecessarily self deprecating. He was holding back, keeping himself hidden away. It was like, never leaving the house again to prevent yourself from getting hit by a car. It was stupid and overkill and he didn't need to be so guarded with… me?

I looked at Charlie. I was still waiting for an answer. I gave him one that was true and not the whole truth at the same time.

"Three guys asked me to ask them out today," I said. "One of them nearly turned down one of my best friends here to do it, and one of the others was Tyler."

Charlie looked like he was considering going for a drive. With a shotgun.

"Dad," I said, trying to coax him back down. "I will handle it. You don't need to get that look."

He frowned, "He could have killed you."

"I understand that," I said. "He also didn't even scratch me. I am not going out with him, not ever, and not because he nearly creamed me with his stupid van. He is absolutely not my type."

"Good," he said, seeming to calm down. "Good."

I realized I was calmer too. Whatever was going on with Edward, it wasn't any of my business anymore than Tyler was Charlie's. If Charlie could let it go, so could I.

That night, I dreamed of Edward again. I couldn't have told you when he started starring in my dreams exactly. I think it was the night after my near van experience. But this time, it was different. The dream started off in my truck, like that afternoon, with him leaning through my window. But when he stood up and stepped back, this time, I reached for him, my hand finding that the window was closed and he was on the other side. Then I dreamed that he was everywhere, but only in the mirrors and glass, existing only in reflects and nowhere else. Then he was the other side of iron bars from me, just out of reach, and I couldn't decide if he was in a cell or if I was. The dream seemed to reach some sort of crescendo, and he began pulling away, further and further back. His head was bowed, and I reached for him.

"No," I said. "No, Edward. Stay. No, don't go."

He raised his eyes, and they were a red glow in the darkness. What I had thought was a doorway he had been walking back through turned out to be a window. My window. In my room. And then I realized that I wasn't asleep anymore.

Something was outside my window, something with eyes of gleaming burgundy, somehow visible in the low light. Still half asleep, I cried out. Before I could think, I found myself at the window, my hand splayed against the glass, as it had been on my truck's window in the dream. Whatever it was, it was now gone.

With a crash, I turned to see Charlie barge into my room, his gun pointed at the ceiling.

"What is it?" he said professionally. "What happened?"

"I…" I said. "I thought I saw something."

He thumbed the safety on his gun and lowered it to point at the ground.

"Something?" he asked, sounding about as half asleep as I was.

"Outside my window," I said, the more I woke up, the more ludicrous it sounded.

"I must have been dreaming," I said. "No red eyed monsters out there."

He snorted, "Okay, Bells. Get some sleep."

He closed my door behind himself.

I didn't get back in bed right away. I stood there, my hand on the window. I had seen something, hadn't I? I could have sworn I had. I knew it the same way I knew Edward had been hit by that car. It didn't make sense, but I had seen it. Even fully awake and as crazy as it sounded, I didn't think my brain was making it up.

"Edward," I said to the night, letting my hand fall from the glass. Without a backward glance, I went back to sleep.