We drove for over an hour without stopping in total silence.

I could occasionally feel his eyes on me, but I refused to be the first one to speak. I debated putting the radio on, but decided not to again and again, unsure of if it'd make the silence better or worse. It surprisingly wasn't uncomfortable, despite the fact that I was driving aimlessly with a total stranger in my car who'd just lost his sister. I kept waiting for him to say something, ask me my name or tell me where to drop him off. But when he didn't, I just kept driving, eventually taking a turn that brought us somewhere I didn't recognize. Cute little shops lined the snow covered street, and people walked with their heads bowed down against the icy wind. I pulled up to a red light and noticed a sign for a diner, boasting about having the "World's Best Coffee," and I could feel my mouth water just thinking about it. I'd been so distracted by Angela and everything that was happening that I hadn't finished my coffee, and there was no chance it was palatable now.

I hesitantly cleared my throat, preparing myself to speak for the first time since he got in my car. "Um," I started, keeping my eyes lowered as he turned to look at me. I didn't know what kind of emotion would be in his lovely eyes, and I didn't want to risk losing my train of thought. "I didn't get to finish my coffee this morning, and I could really go for some. We could stop at that diner, maybe get some lunch if you want?" I waited for him to respond, and when he didn't, I lifted my head to see if I could read his expression. His cheeks were still rosy despite the heat in my car, but the dried tear tracks were gone, and his eyes were dark with an emotion I couldn't figure out exactly. Once I met his gaze, he spoke.

"I don't have my wallet. I left it at home when I left this morning." His voice was gruff, like he was on he verge of crying again, and I fought the urge to reach out and touch him. I didn't know if he'd find that comforting, so I kept my hands to myself and smiled gently.

"That's okay. My treat. Consider the stop a favor to me, because seriously, I need some coffee." He turned and looked at the diner quickly before nodding in my direction without looking back at me, and I pulled into the parking lot and into the first spot I could find. We climbed out of the car, and I was surprised to find him waiting at the trunk for me. I started to smile, but that was when I got my first good look at him that I'd denied myself back at the school.

His body definitely matched his face. He was broad shouldered, filling out a dark blue zip up jacket very nicely. His jeans were clearly well loved by how worn and faded the color was, and fit him so perfectly my mouth almost started watering, and not from the delicious scent of fresh brewed coffee wafting from the diner. His feet were encased in scuffed up black sneakers, and the whole ensemble was wrapped up nicely by the baseball cap he'd turned backwards on his head at some point while we were driving. He was the kind of boy Angela and I would drool over from afar, but never have the guts to actually speak to. And definitely not the type that'd ever want someone like me.

That thought actually brought me comfort due to the situation we were in. He was less threatening when I realized how truly out of my league he was physically, and I relaxed just a bit more.

"Ready?" I asked. He nodded and gestured with his hand that I should go first, and he followed me silently into the diner. We picked a booth in the back, and I took a look around while the wonderful heat warmed my chilled body. The diner was named Patty's Pancakes and Pies, and had a 50's feel to the décor. There was a jukebox in the corner, softly crooning out lyric-less blues music, and the booths and chairs were furnished in red vinyl. The floor was checked tile, and the counter and visible appliances were all stainless steel, scuffed with wear and tear from years of use. I immediately liked the atmosphere, and felt myself calming even further.

We weren't alone for long before our waiter walked up to the table. He was cute, more my type with shaggy blonde hair and freckles across the bridge of his nose. He was wearing a black t-shirt with the diner's name in cursive across the chest, and old dark jeans with a rip in the knee. I looked at him with a small grin, and noticed he was side-eyeing my lunch companion with clear appreciation in his eyes. My smile widened of it's own accord as I wondered if the boy across the table noticed, too.

"Hello, and welcome to Patty's. Can I get you folks something to drink?" He turned and looked at me, basically putting his back to my lunch date, and I fought back a giggle. Clearly he was too flustered by the good looking boy across from me to speak to him directly, and I totally understood.

"Coffee for me please," I responded with a wink, and he blushed adorably before looking down at the table.

"And you, sir?" he asked the small ketchup stain on the corner of our table. I turned my head and looked at the boy whose name I really should have known by that point, and was taken aback by the irritation I saw on his face.

"Um, I'll have a coffee, too." Our waiter cleared his throat and nodded before rushing off without a word to get our drinks. My lunch companion met my eyes, and I raised an eyebrow at him. "What?" he asked, and I shook my head. 'Are you okay?' was the question I wanted to ask, but I knew how stupid that would be with the situation he was in. I knew he more than likely wasn't okay.

"I feel like I should introduce myself," I replied, and was rewarded with the cutest little smile in return. I felt my cheeks redden in a blush, and moronically stuck my hand out to the guy I'd just spent over an hour with in my car. "I'm Isabella, but my friends call me Bella." He looked down at my hand and then back at me as he reached out to take it. His large palm absolutely encased mine, and the cool temperature of his skin and the calluses on his fingers caused a chill to run down my spine.

"I'm Edward." He gently squeezed my fingers once before pulling away, and my hand felt three degrees colder as soon as his skin was no longer touching mine. We smiled at each other for a second before I broke eye contact and reached for a menu, sliding his across the table to him. I scanned the menu for a moment, feeling like his eyes were burning a hole into the top of my head. Right when I was about to gather the courage to look up, our waiter was back with a carafe of fresh smelling coffee, and I nearly wept as he filled my mug with the steaming liquid. I immediately got to work while he filled Edward's cup, dumping in one container of creamer, then half a packet of sugar, stirring it for ten seconds, and then adding a second packet of creamer and the rest of the sugar packet. I lifted the mug, cradling it between both hands, and inhaled deeply before bringing it to my lips and taking a small sip. My eyes closed in ecstasy as I sighed, and I heard a masculine chuckle from across the table. I squinted one eye open and was blown away by the sight of a true smile on Edward's face.

It was absolutely breathtaking.

"What?" I asked stupidly, referring to the glorious sight of that boyish grin. His lips were full and perfect, and his smile was just slightly lopsided, raising higher on the left than the right. It created the most perfect dimple in his cheek and a cleft in his chin, and his eyes sparkled with humor. I'd never seen anything more beautiful on a man's face in my life.

"You kind of like coffee, huh?" I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering if he was making fun of me.

"Making the perfect cup of coffee is an art, and should be treated as such. If you do one step incorrectly, the whole cup is a waste. And wasting coffee is sacrilege." He stared at me for a moment in silence, and then started to chuckle. Without breaking eye contact, he grabbed a few sugar packets, tore the tops off, and proceeded to dump every granule into the cup in front of him. I could feel my jaw drop as he reached for creamer next, and I didn't even think before I was reaching across the table and smacking his hand away from the small dish. "No!" I exclaimed. "What do you think you're doing?" He stared at me wide eyed, clenching and unclenching his hand like I'd actually caused him pain. "I'm sorry if I hurt you, but did you not hear a word I just said?"

"I didn't think you were that serious!" he laughed. "Especially not about someone else's coffee!" I rolled my eyes and brought my mug to my mouth, taking a small sip. As soon as the warmth hit my tongue, my eyes rolled back and I sighed happily, releasing a small hum of pleasure. When I looked back at Edward, he was looking at me with something in his eyes that I couldn't read.

"Take a sip of your coffee," I demanded, raising an eyebrow when he continued to stare at me. His gaze was focused on my mouth, and I surreptitiously wipe my chin with my sleeve, hoping to clean off whatever he was looking at. He blinked twice and met my eyes.

"Hm?"

"I said, take a sip of your coffee," I repeated. He quickly lifted his mug to his face and took a deep sip without breaking eye contact, and I smirked. "Was it any good?" He shook his head, and my smile widened in triumph. But before I could get another word in, he spoke.

"Only because you didn't let me put any creamer in." I shook my head and sighed.

"Creamer would not have helped that poor cup of coffee you murdered with your-," I reached across the table and sifted through the empty packets in front of him, counting out loud, "four, fix, six packets of sugar you so carelessly dumped in there. You've already ruined it, so go ahead. Add your creamer and taste it again." He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, reaching cautiously towards the creamer. When he realized I wasn't going to hit him again, he swiped three from the dish and hurriedly dumped them into his mug, mixed it with his butter knife for a few seconds, and took a sip. "How is it?" I asked.

"Just how I like it," he replied. I shook my head sadly and held my cup out to him.

"Now taste this." He laughed again but made no move to take it. "No, seriously. Taste my perfectly doctored cup of coffee, made with love and expertise. Go on." His lips pulled up into another glorious smile, and he took the cup of coffee. He lifted it to his mouth and took a small sip without removing his gaze from mine, which gave me the satisfaction of watching his eyebrows lift as it touched his tongue for the first time. "Good, right?" I asked, and he nodded. "Told you, now give it back." I reached across the table, but he pushed my hands away, turning towards the window so I couldn't stop him while he chugged from my cup. I laughed and wrestled with him for a minute before giving in and letting him finish my coffee.

It was the first time since he'd gotten in my car that I saw no pain in his eyes, and I couldn't bear to take that moment away from him just yet. Not when he'd be returning to a reality where his sister was gone.

"That's good coffee," he said, handing me my completely empty cup. I pouted at him and looked sadly into the mug, causing him to smile. "Sorry I finished yours, want mine?" I laughed and shook my head.

"Thanks, but no thanks. I'm going to teach you how to do it, so you never have to have another cup of failure again."

And for the next four hours, amidst conversation about anything and everything we could think of, that's what I did.