(Edward POV)

I think everyone has that one person that they look up to. That one person who may be real or fake, dead or alive, rich or poor, that inspires you in some way. Well, my guy is Shakespeare. I know, laugh all you want. The guy had a way with words.

It's my mom's fault. She raised me surrounded by his plays, sonnets, and quotes. She has this slight obsession with him. I was twelve when I first read A Midsummer Night's Dream and after that I just kind of followed the guy. His quotes - if you can comprehend them - have meaning and purpose. They explain a lot, especially when I'm at a loss for words.

Plus, I'm sure he was good with the ladies.

I have to admit, Sonnet 145, the poem he wrote for his new wife Anne Hathaway (no, not the celebirity) is my favourite. Don't ask me why because I can't tell you. I don't know why I do myself, but I do.

So as I pull out of the coffee shop's parking lot and head over to Bella's, I recite the sonnet in my head a few times to get me motived for the day. I hope she's alright with me coming over. She didn't text me back last night and I'm guessing it's because she came home exhausted and went straight to bed. She'd never purposely ignore me, right? No. No she wouldn't.

Two months. That's how long I have until my times up to tell Bella. Really, I could tell her whenever but I want to win this bet. For me, for Bella, for the sake of winning. It's to the point where I can't handle holding it in anymore. I might just burst!

Perhaps I can take a Sheakespeare route when approaching Bella. I could say, "Go to you bosom: Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know."

Bella knows I have this thing for plays, quotes, poems, Shakespeare. She might find it... cute? No, I don't want to be cute. I just want to know if she feels the same way. And if in some miraculous way she does, then we'll take it from there.

A hint of a smile covers my features and I turn the corner onto her street. A half a minute later I'm in her driveway. I'm relieved momentarily to see her truck is parked in its usual spot on the cement driveway, but that relief disappears as I remember she went to the party with Angela. My sister Alice went to the party but came home late and is still sleeping.

Alice and I are faternal twins. Trust me, we look nothing alike. She's a pixie, a fairy, a short girl with spiked hair. Whatever, you get the point. She's spent the last two years of her life trying to persuade Bella and I to 'stop being so blind and see that we're perfect for each other'. It's embarrassing, since Alice knows without me even telling her, how I feel about Bella. She tells me that Bella feels the same way and when I ask how she knows she simply responds, 'I can tell'.

I roll my eyes. Her and Emmett are persistant. It's kind of sweet, in the stale candy kind of way.

It's when I get out of the car I can feel the brisk April air. It's almost stale and feels different than usual. It's almost as though I can feel something is up. I hate the knot feeling I get in my stomach, but proceed to grab the two cups of hot drinks and use my teeth to hold the paper bag of sweets. I kick the door shut with my left knee and walk up to the front door. The second step leading up to the porch still squeaks as it does whenever I place my foot on it and the sound gives me some sort of comfort. At least something is normal around here. I don't hear ruckus beyond the door like I usually do on Saturday mornings. Bella's usually cooking scrambled eggs and making Charlie some coffee because he refuses coffee shop coffee insisting it takes 'icky'.

I calm myself by saying Bella had a late night and all is well apart from the potential headache she'll be facing when she gets up. I ring the doorbell with my nose even though I know I'm welcome in the house. I just don't think I'm capable to open the door knob myself. I'm no waitor, I can't balance all this shit on my pinkie.

Geez.

I hear slumping and Charlie clear his throat as he answers the door. He looks tired and his mustache isn't it's usual fluffy. It looks more gray then black and I notice the deep lines around his mouth. He steps aside and I walk in, setting my armful of goodness down on the coffee table before facing him.

I try to use a light tone and make conversation, "How late did she get in?" I chuckle hoarsely. Charlie and I get along; this isn't us. He usually answers the door and greets me with some wit as Bella barrels towards the door to grab her earl grey tea. She'll give me a kiss on the cheek or a one-armed hug before walking me into the kitchen.

"Pretty late seeing as she isn't home yet." Charlie grumbles. "Didn't get a wink of sleep. I was waitin' for her, hopin' she was with you even though you didn't go."

I take a step back like a blow to the chest. "She never came home?"

"No, Angela didn't drop her off. Angela called though..."

"What did she have to say?" I demand urgently. "Where is Bella?"

Charlie moves to sit on the recliner and squeezes his eyes shut. "She called just before you arrived, kid. Apparently Bells got pissy at Newton like usual and just left. Walked out. She told Angela she needed fresh air and was gonna get someone to drive her home early. Angela thought nothing of it, but when she called this mornin' to make sure Bells made it home safely..."

I sit my ass on the edge of the coffee table. "You're shitting me. This is one big joke." I place my head in my hands. "She's fine, she's fine."

"She wouldn't just leave. I know my daughter, you know her." Charlie's voice breaks. "I've got to go to the office and report this. I can't spend another second-" Charlie cuts himself off with a sniff and gets up to walk over to the coat hook. He grabs his belt and gun before turning to face me dingling his keys before me. "You comin'?"

"Of course." I reply in a monotone. I don't feel my movements as I get up and follow Charlie out the door.

I notice the air is still stale.