Title: You Found Me

Full Summary: Edward Masen has lived the life of a nomadic vampire, travelling with James and Victoria since he awoke as an immortal. His ability to read minds has had the unusual side effect of making him a vampire with a conscience. Despite the ridicule from his coven mates, he's confident he's making the best of his existence and doing what's morally right... until he stumbles upon a brown-eyed girl reading in a meadow in Forks. As he attempts to befriend her and learns more about the sleepy town of Forks, Edward finds there's a lot more to being a vampire than he ever thought possible.

Pairings: Canon

Rating: M, for language and future sexing.

Chapter: Ten; Mortify

POV: Bella

AN: The usual thanks to everyone, especially my readers :) After the posting of the last chapter, I reached 100 alerts, which is pretty awesome. Apparently there are at least a hundred of you who care enough to know what's going on with this story. Hope, as always, that it doesn't disappoint :) I apologize ahead of time that this chapter is mostly filler fluff, but Edward and Bella won't shut up when they're together.

Also, if you enjoy fluff and don't mind post-BD stories, I recently posted a summer-themed smutshot, to test the waters as far as lemon writing goes. I'm trying to get some practice in before it becomes something necessary in this fic ;) If you're so inclined, I'd love opinions on how I can improve, since it's out of my usual comfort zone ;)

xx

When I had seen Edward standing outside my window, my heart began pounding in my throat so loudly I thought I might have accidentally swallowed a jackhammer. I wondered absently if he could hear it through the glass pane. It felt deafening.

I undid the latch, feeling slightly guilty. When I had heard the sound of pebbles on my window, my initial thought was that Jacob had returned for one of his nighttime let's-check-up-on-Bella sessions. Yet seeing Edward out there flipped my bad mood a hundred and eighty degrees. Erasing the ping of annoyance was a shot of undiluted happiness, because Edward wasn't Jacob, and because, well, he was Edward. Any girl with any sense would be thrilled to have Edward sneak into her bedroom.

Even so, I reminded myself that I should try to reopen the lines of communication with Jacob. He might have been a jerk, but he was still my friend and he didn't deserve the brush off or the silent treatment.

The thought was erased from my mind just as quickly as it had entered it once Edward stepped into my room. Despite the fact he was hanging onto a tree in the pitch dark and his movements should have been clumsy and awkward, he moved with a fluidly and grace of which I'd previously thought humans incapable. His footsteps barely registered on the hardwood as he swung himself onto solid ground.

I was almost embarrassed to show him my little room, still decorated like it had been when I was a kid. There was still the odd finger painting hung on the wall. For some reason, Charlie had hung all the childish artwork I'd sent to him for father's days and Christmases on the walls of this room. I hadn't spent much of the past year I'd been living here redecorating. It was only me who saw it anyway. Other than my dad, Edward was the only person who had stepped foot in this room since I had moved in with Charlie on a permanent basis.

I could vaguely hear myself questioning Edward about why he was here, but the facts were irrelevant. I didn't care because he was here.

The stupor Edward always left me in sat comfortably on my shoulders until one burning question made its way through the foggy haze my brain had been reduced to. How the hell did he know where my bedroom window was?

I wondered if I was stupid for being happy at the possibility that he had followed me home in the past. I wanted him to want to know about me, just like I wanted to know everything about him.

His perfectly reasonable answer – that he noticed the colour of my curtains – quickly rendered that theory useless, and I felt a little stupid for being depressed that he wasn't following me. I hated the thought of being that girl. The clingy one who needed her boyfriend – I blushed at the very thought of Edward possibly being like a boyfriend – to follow her every move, circling like a planet to her sun.

He stood awkwardly just inside my window. I closed it, remembering his frozen hands in the meadow.

"So… this is my room," I said awkwardly, unsure why I was so nervous. I'd just spent four hours asleep on his lap. That certainly indicated a level of familiarity and comfort.

"It's cozy," he said carefully, "like you."

Gee, just what every girl wanted to hear. Was that guy code for frumpy and boring?

"Um… thanks. I think," I said shortly.

He looked a little alarmed at my tone and was quick to amend his statement.

"It's a good thing," he assured. "It's intimate, like a little safe haven away from the real world." I liked that description better. Besides, there was no denying the thrill I felt hearing Edward say the word intimate. Such an innocent thing, yet the way he made it sound…

"I feel that way, too, sometimes." I grinned shyly, taking a seat on my bed and gesturing for him to do the same. He sat down next to me, mere inches separating our thighs from touching. I shifted back a little to cross my legs but Edward remained sitting stiffly on the edge, his hands folded in his lap. "You're the first person, besides my dad, who has been in here since I moved here," I blurted out, unsure why I was telling him at all.

For some reason, he grinned wide, his pretty eyes sparkling. He was happy, so I was too.

"No boyfriend?" he asked innocently. The question could have been nosy, but from Edward, it wasn't.

"No," I said simply, trying to keep my tone even. This was the one topic we'd never broached. School, friends and family had all been fair game. This was new. A nervous flutter tickled at my belly.

He smiled again at my answer, his lip quirking up adorably. "Good." He said it so quietly that I couldn't be sure I'd heard right. I felt my lips curl to match his. I liked that he didn't want me to be with someone else. Maybe that meant he wanted me for himself. I hoped.

Feeling uncharacteristically bold, I looked him straight in the eye. "What about you? Do you have a girlfriend?" I was pretty sure I knew the answer but confirmation couldn't hurt.

He shook his head adamantly. "No. We move too often. I–" he stopped abruptly, averting his eyes.

"You…?" I prompted, touching his sleeve gently, trying to regain eye-contact.

"I've never really found someone I wanted to be with like that. Until recently."

"Yeah?" I asked hopefully. I wasn't known for being the most self-assured girl in the world and I didn't like to assume but the hints were unmistakably there.

"Yes."

I sensed there was more he had to say. "But?"

"But I don't know if she'll want me, once she gets to know me better. She might not like who I am, and I don't want her to hate me."

He sounded more small and innocent than I'd ever heard him, but even his blatant insecurity couldn't mask the beauty of his velvet voice.

The fluttering in my stomach was working overtime at his words. How could he think he was anything less than perfect? And not just physically, but emotionally and mentally, too. He was a real life romantic hero. The boy that all the girls wanted in high school. Except instead of being a loser jock, he was sweet and intelligent and didn't realize quite how perfect he was so he was never immodest about it.

"Edward, any girl who gets to know you couldn't possibly hate you. You're one of the purest, nicest guys I know. Trust me."

"You're saying that blindly, Bella," he sighed warily, wringing his hands together. "If you only knew…"

The flutter turned to a hopeful throb. He was implying I was missing crucial information about him, just like his mystery girl… what were the chances she was actually me?

"Why don't you tell me, then?" I suggested. Maybe if we talked about it, we could put it behind us and move on.

"It's not so easy. Knowing could put you in more danger than not knowing. I want you to be safe."

I was becoming frustrated by his evasiveness. "You've said that like twenty times, Edward. I'm safe, trust me. My dad is the police chief. How much danger could I be in?"

"There are things that go beyond the scope of law enforcement, Bella. Things that no one, not even your police chief father can save you from."

My mind briefly flashed to Jacob and the werewolves. But Edward was pale and lean and definitely not hot to the touch. There was no way that he was a shape-shifting canine like the boys from the reservation.

My brow scrunched. "What are you saying, Edward?"

"I'm saying that being around me is dangerous for you. I don't want you to be inadvertently hurt, because of your mere association with me."

I frowned, trying to read between the lines. "Has your sister done something to you?" I asked carefully, trying not to think about the multitude of ways she could have abused the beautiful boy sitting on my bed. "Has she… hurt you? Or your brother-in-law? Has he done something?"

He sighed, shaking his head. "No. It's nothing like that. It's me, Bella. It's who I am. What I am. It's me."

I shook my head slightly, as if it might help stop the spinning. I'd never felt so confused in my life. We'd been bantering playfully less than twenty minutes ago, during the walk through the darkened forest. Now Edward was insinuating that he was a danger to me and refusing to say why.

"I don't understand. Please, just tell me?" I asked, fighting back tears of hurt and frustration. The sting in my chest hurt significantly worse than the one in my eyes. "You said it's who you are… what you are. Everything I know about you has only ever shown me that you are a perfect gentleman. You'd never purposely hurt me. So I don't understand why you're saying this… is it something I did? Are you trying to drive me away, so you don't have to be my friend? If that's it, I'm sorry for whatever I did. Really."

In less time than it took to blink, his arms were wrapped around me, crushing me to his hard chest. It was so comforting, I couldn't bring myself to care. He shushed me, humming soothing words into my hair.

"No." His tone was unyielding. "It's not you. Never you, Bella. I meant what I said. It's my problem. I want to tell you, I do. But I'm scared. I know that's probably not the right thing for me to say right now, but it's the truth."

I wiped a stray tear on his shirt, trying not to be too obvious about it. Somehow, I didn't think he'd care even if I was sobbing openly.

"Okay," I mumbled, ignoring the lump in my throat. "As long as we're friends."

That sentiment was woefully inadequate, but based on recent events, I wasn't going to allow myself to hope for anything more, despite the multitude of hints he'd been dropping. He wasn't the only one who was scared.

Sometimes I wondered if he could read my mind because his next words helped to curb those worries.

"Bella. Trust me, you're more than just a friend to me. I know we haven't known one another long but you're my best friend. I understand that I've given you no reason to trust me but I mean that from the bottom of my heart."

I smiled against his shirt, huffing his scent shamelessly. He smelled so good, sweet but musky. There were no words to describe it. It was just Edward and it was ridiculously soothing. I felt like I'd been sniffing glue, except glue that smelled much nicer than regular glue.

Edward stroked my back gently, smiling against the top my head. The action made me smile, too. I liked happy Edward.

"So I guess we're just a couple of drama queens, huh?" I teased lightly, wiping the remnants of moisture from my face with the back of one of my hands, the other refusing to let go of him.

He pushed me away from him so he could look into my face. His eyes hardened a bit when they met my reddened ones. "I suppose so. I didn't mean to worry you. Or make you cry. I'm not good with this."

"Me either," I admitted, placing my hand firmly in his. His large fingers curled around my small ones. I couldn't help but notice they were still freezing. "But that's okay. We can learn together. Right?"

"Of course," he grinned. "No more tears tonight?"

I nodded eagerly. "Just smiles." I raised our joined hands up between us. "But for now I'm going to go get us some tea. Your hands are freezing, and what kind of hostess would I be if I let you sit here shivering on my watch?"

His eyes crinkled and he shook his head. "I'm fine, Bella. I've got… poor circulation. I'm always cold. Besides, I'm on a special diet."

I frowned stubbornly. He'd never mentioned a diet before. Why wouldn't this stubborn boy just let me make him some tea? He couldn't be worried about my cookery skills. How many ways were there to put a teabag in boiling water?

"You're more than just cold, Edward," I countered. "You're freezing. And what kind of diet bans tea?"

He frowned as well, his face scrunching adorably. "Well, I guess you could say it's a mostly liquid diet."

"Tea is liquid," I said persuasively. "We even have decaf, if it's the caffeine you're worried about. Besides, tea is good for you. It's loaded with antioxidants and other things that are beneficial to your health."

He nodded after a moment of contemplation. "Okay. How did you become such an expert on tea? … and what will your dad say if he sees you bringing two cups?"

"He won't. He's watching the Mariners game now. There's nothing, major natural disasters aside, that could tear him from his armchair. Just drink some tea, Edward. It'll make me feel better," I pleaded.

He nodded, a smile playing on his lips. "So stubborn. Always so stubborn."

"Whatever," I countered, already moving towards the door. "You're gonna drink the tea aren't you? As long as you are, I don't care."

I just caught his conceding nod as I slipped out the door, careful to close it behind me on the off chance Charlie was roaming around on a commercial break or something. I hurried to the kitchen, clicking on the kettle and preparing our mugs along with a small plate of cheese and crackers, just in case Edward was hungry.

Five minutes later I was back in my room balancing everything on a small tray. Thankfully, my only interaction with Charlie was a shout from the living room, asking me if I could leave him a mug on the counter.

Edward looked up at me from his place on the bed. He'd settled himself onto it, cross-legged, just like I had been, a photo album nestled in his lap. It warmed me to see him looking so comfortable in my space after our awkward emotional exchange.

He grinned at me sheepishly. "I hope you don't mind but I saw this album sitting on your bookshelf and I was curious."

I shrugged, pretending not to notice my own red cheeks. It figured in the short space of time I left him to his own devices that he'd zero in on the single most embarrassing item in my room. I set the tray down on my night table, and crawled onto the bed next to him.

"It's fine," I reassured, hesitantly peeking at whatever he was looking at in the album. He was still in the first few pages.

He was grinning down at a picture of me on my first Halloween. Charlie and Renee were flanking me with the goofy grins of proud new parents on their faces as I sat in a baby carrier, dressed in a miniscule clown costume, complete with hat and face paint. Only my mother would slather the face of a not even two-month-old in makeup.

He poked at the picture, stroking the cheek of the baby version of me in the photograph. "You were so cute." He looked up at me through his lashes, shyly.

I stifled a snort. "That's not cute. That's borderline child abuse. My parents only got away with it because I wasn't old enough to complain yet."

He shook his head. "You look quite thrilled to me. You're laughing."

"No, see, I'm actually crying at the torture being inflicted upon me. You know where you laugh so hard you cry? Well, this was the exact opposite of that," I explained, jabbing at the traitorous picture.

He shrugged, flipping to the next page, which featured a photo of me on one of the few family vacations taken with both Renee and Charlie. "Look at you in your little pink swimsuit and giraffe intertube! With pig tails!"

I couldn't match Edward's enthusiasm. "All my mom. Renee had the most awful taste in children's clothing. She insisted frills and the colour pink suited me. They didn't. Obviously."

Undeterred by my negativity, Edward flipped to the next page: Charlie holding two-year-old me up so I could plant the shiny silver star, which was nearly as big as I was, atop a Christmas tree.

"You were so small! Look at you holding that star. Christmas must have been so much fun in your home. You all look so happy…" His tone was wistful.

I shrugged. "It was, when I was little. Renee always went overboard with the decorations, even after she and Charlie split. It was always like a Party Planet threw up all over the house. Of course, the decorations would stay up until April, when I took them down."

This process continued for ten minutes. Edward flipped through the album and a veritable parade of pictures featuring me over the years during various holidays and family vacations, wearing all sorts of hideous getups that Renee liked to call "fashionable." Edward always make some sweet comment about how adorable I was and I would refute it in embarrassment but remain secretly pleased with the never-ending slew of compliments.

It wasn't until we were more than halfway through the album that I actually began to recognize myself and my typical jeans and T-shirt attire. Renee had practically cried in disappointment when, at nine years old, I declared I wanted to pick my own clothes.

We had been so engrossed, it wasn't until the album was closed, the brown suede of the back cover staring up at us, that I remembered the tea.

"Crap!" I cried, staring gloomily at the now lukewarm mugs. "I can go heat them up, if you'd like," I suggested.

Edward shrugged, "It's fine, Bella. Looking through your photo album with you was worth missing out on tea. You're much too hard on yourself, by the way. How can you not realize how precious you were… and still are?"

I flushed. There was no good way to answer that. "Um, well… I guess I'll just go heat these up. Feel free to take some crackers while you wait, but please, god, whatever you do, don't find any more embarrassing photo albums?"

Edward smirked smugly.

When I returned, our mugs returned to their former steaming glory, Edward was still cross-legged on the bed. His hands were behind his back, a beautiful (but entirely too cunning for my tastes) smile stretched across his features.

"Guess what I found?" he teased, his eyes widening playfully like a little boy's, one who was hiding a gigantic secret.

I swear my stomach fell into the soles of my feet as I contemplated what mortifying thing he could have uncovered this time.

"Well," he teased, "I was looking under your bed, and I found–"

"You found my journal!" I screeched, before remembering Charlie was home and lowering my voice. If he read any of the things written in there about him… "You better not have read it! You're dead!"

I lunged across my bed at him, belly flopping onto the mattress, but Edward was too quick. He was already safely on the opposite side.

I couldn't believe he'd do that. So much for him being sweet, I fumed.

"Bella!... Bella!" Edward called, his tone suggesting he'd called my name several times before and I wasn't responding, due to hearing impairment via mortification induced anger.

"Relax, I was just teasing. I didn't actually look under your bed. Though, now I might…" He pulled his hands from behind his back, revealing that he was actually holding my hardcover collection of fairy tales.

I sighed in relief, immediately ducking my head below my bed to check that my journal was safely stowed away.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Edward said, holding his hands up innocently, trying to keep a straight-face and failing miserably. "You're just too easy to rile up. I swear I had no idea that you kept your journal under your bed. I didn't even look under it. I just figured something had to be under there. Girls always keep interesting things under their beds in the movies."

I jabbed at his shoulder and missed, which was probably for the best. I still had bruises from my fist's last run-in with Edward's chest. He hugged me gently, his face now serious. "I'm sorry."

I huffed but it was more for the principle of the thing than real anger. I couldn't stay mad at him, not when he was being so playful and genuinely contrite. I nodded my head to the mug I'd brought him. "Drink your tea, you jerk."

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed, immediately cupping the ceramic mug in his hands, and taking a small sip, as I reached for the cracker plate. It looked like they'd all been pushed to one side of the plate.

"Cheese and crackers?" I offered.

He smiled uncomfortably. "No, I'm good. I had some while you were reheating the tea."

He reached a hand out towards me, even though we were sitting on opposite sides of my bed. I connected mine with his, glad to feel that his hand was a little less freezing than before.

"You're not mad at me, are you?" He asked, looking at me like a kicked puppy. "I swear I didn't know. It was a stupid joke. I'm sorry."

"Edward?" I asked, looking him straight in the eye, "Shut up. I'm over it. As long as you didn't actually read my journal."

A flash of something akin to guilt swept his features but was quickly replaced with a winning smile. "Let me read you a story to make it up to you." He tapped the collection of fairytales.

"Okay," I agreed, "That sounds fair. You have a nice voice. Read me a bedtime story." I pretended to settle myself into my bed, Edward nestling himself beside me on the small twin.

"Which one do you want to hear?"

"Hmm. I don't know. You pick." Truthfully, I just wanted to hear him speak. I loved the melodic sound of his voice. I wondered if he sang. He'd mentioned the piano before, so he was musically inclined, at the very least.

"Snow White." He said it so quickly and decisively that I had to wonder his motivations for picking it.

"Why Snow White?"

He shrugged. "You remind me of her, except instead of ebony hair, yours is mahogany. You could be a fairytale character. Don't you ever wish you were?"

"When I was little, all the time. We all have to grow up sometime, though. Jessica Stanley might still wish she was a princess, but I have loftier dreams than that, these days. I'm a realist. I want to go to college. Be happy. Those are my life dreams."

"You shouldn't be so quick to write off things that don't seem logical to you." His voice was even, but it seemed like there was an underlying message there. Only I had no idea what it was.

"Are you saying that my prince might still come for me one day?" I teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

His lips curled in amusement. "Perhaps."

"But you don't look like a frog to me," I joked, immediately recognizing my mistake.

To my relief, Edward only laughed, glossing over the words spewing out of my overactive mouth.

"I wish. A frog would be a vast improvement. If there's such a thing as reincarnation, I'll consider myself lucky to be a frog in my next life."

"Shh. You told me earlier I should stop complaining about myself, when we were looking at my album. Now it's your turn. Aren't you supposed to be reading to me, anyway?"

He nodded, propping open the book on his stomach. I settled against the side of his shoulder. I closed my eyes and let his voice wash over me.

"Once upon a time in midwinter, when the snowflakes were falling like feathers from heaven, a queen sat sewing at her window…"

Next thing I knew, it was morning and I was alone in my bed.

xx

It was dangerously close to ten o'clock by the time I was alert enough to roll over and check my clock.

I dressed speedily, yanking the first items of clothing I came across off their hangers without even looking at them. I scarfed down two pieces of buttered toast, barely acknowledging my father, who was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee, as I whirled around him preparing my simple meal. I called out that I'd see him before dinner and that I was going to hang out with a friend. I left before he had a chance to grill me on the details.

I went out the front door so he wouldn't wonder why I was always going to the meadow. I hoped he'd think my friend was picking me up. When I was sure he wasn't looking, I circled around to the backyard.

I made pretty good time considering that I'd only had ten minutes to get ready and walk to the meadow. I ended up being only a few minutes late. There was no way I was going to stand Edward up any longer, after the mess from a few days ago.

He was already sitting in the centre of the meadow, surrounded by long grass, which was beginning to yellow as the nights got cooler. The flowers were beginning to disappear, too. As long as Edward was there, I didn't care what it looked like.

He smirked when he saw me approaching, no doubt taking in my unbrushed hair and sleep-flushed face. I probably still had marks on my face from the wrinkles in my pillowcase. At least I'd had the intelligence to brush my teeth. Just in case…

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Perhaps I got it wrong yesterday. Sleeping Beauty might be more fitting than Snow White?" He had the nerve to laugh.

I plopped down next to him. "Well. I definitely had it wrong. You're not a frog prince. You're a regular old toad," I countered, causing him to laugh harder. I couldn't help but do the same.

"Don't be so difficult, Bella. It was a compliment. I'm saying you're beautiful. Sleeping beauty, remember?"

"Sure. Apparently, we need to get you some glasses." I pointed to my hair. "This is not what people typically call beautiful." I pointed at his artfully disarrayed locks. "That is what people call beautiful."

"Well, I have to say, I don't see all that much of a difference between the two… At least once you take the time to brush your hair it'll lay flat."

I laughed. "Why would you want your hair to lay flat, Edward? You'd look ridiculous. Your hair suits you. Guys spend millions on hair gel trying to make their hair look like yours."

"Fortunate, since it's stuck like this for eternity," he deadpanned, looking regretful immediately after. Clearing his throat he added, "Do you have a brush in your bag? I'll brush your hair for you, since you don't have a mirror…"

I really hoped I did. I wanted Edward to brush my hair. Mercifully, after pulling out all sorts of odds and ends that I didn't know I'd been carrying with me, I managed to locate a comb, with a hair tie twined around it at the bottom of my bag.

Edward took it from me and began to comb out the knots in my hair, his long fingers pulling the instrument through the tangles with gentle efficiency. I barely felt the pull. It reminded me of my mom combing my hair when I was little, except it was so much better. With a brief pang of jealousy, I wondered how Edward knew how to comb a girl's hair. I quickly pushed it aside. He was combing my hair, not anyone else's.

When he was done, he handed me the comb, pulling the hair tie from it. He raked his fingers into my hair to pull it up into a high ponytail. I almost groaned at the feel of his fingers brushing against my scalp. Once again, they were cold. I was kind of getting used to it. It was just another part of who Edward was.

When my hair was secured in the elastic, Edward turned me to face him and nodded approvingly.

"Perfect."

My already stuttering heartbeat sped up a little more. Taking the compliment in stride, I lay back in the grass. Edward followed my lead.

"What are we going to do today?" I asked, looking up at the overcast skies. The clouds were dark and bulging. It looked like it was on the verge of rain. I'd sit out in the rain with Edward if he asked me to, but I was kind of hoping he wouldn't.

"We have all day, right?" he asked, intertwining the fingers of his right hand with my left.

I nodded. "I promised Charlie that I'd be home for dinner. I feel bad that I rarely make dinner anymore."

"Well, as much as I love this meadow… what would you say to going to Port Angeles for the day?"

I nodded eager to do something different with him. "What do you want to do?"

He shrugged. "Anything you want to do will be fine with me. We could see a film? I'd suggest shopping, but your tales of shopping with Jessica and Lauren sounded unpleasant."

I wouldn't have minded shopping with him, but I didn't want to be one of those girls who dragged a guy shopping with her.

"Going to the movies sounds like fun." I allowed him to help me up from the grass, enjoying the sweetness of the gesture. Not letting go of his hand, I began to head for my home, figuring we'd probably take my truck. Edward hadn't ever mentioned having a car.

He didn't budge. It was like towing a stone. "Bella? Where are you going? Port Angeles is this way." He pointed into the deep expanse of the forest.

I rolled my eyes. "I know that. But we're not going to walk there are we? And you can't seriously expect us to thrash our way through the underbrush?"

He smirked. "How do you think I get here everyday?"

I gaped like a fish. "Seriously? You never have so much as a speck of dirt on you. How is that humanly possible?"

He shrugged. "It's possible. Perhaps it's not possible for you. But some of us were born without a clumsy gene. Care for another piggyback?" His eyes held a familiar smug spark, like he knew I was going to accept. I almost wanted to say no, just so he wouldn't have the satisfaction, but I kind of wanted to hug his back again and have the opportunity to huff his sweet musky smell without having him call me out on it.

"Okay, but you better not complain that I'm heavy or anything," I said, trying to save what minimal face I had left. I wasn't really going to protest if it afforded me the opportunity to be near him.

Instead of grumbling about it, as some would have, Edward smiled at me like he'd just won a prize because I was letting him carry me. He ducked down, so I could scramble onto his back, fitting my contours against his like a human jigsaw.

"We won't be walking the whole way," Edward explained, already expertly weaving through the trees. I didn't hit a branch once. "Just to my car. It's only a short hike to where I've parked."

A few minutes later we emerged onto a stretch of roadside I recognized as only a mile or so northeast of my house. Sitting abandoned on the shoulder of the two lane freeway was an impossibly shiny sports car. I gaped, staring at the gleaming paintjob.

"That's your car?"