BPOV

I tossed and turned in the bed, unable to sleep. My hand was throbbing and I couldn't get the events of the past few days out of my head. It was Tuesday, well, Wednesday I corrected myself as I looked at the clock. The bright red lights on the clock showing that it was a little after 2am. I had been sleeping in the Cullen's spare bedroom for the last few days, waiting for my car to be repaired. Carlisle had called my father and explained that he would be more comfortable if I stayed with them while Charlie was gone, something Charlie rapidly agreed to. Carlisle never once mentioned the accident, for which I was grateful. When I had woken up Sunday morning Alice had explained to me that Edward and Emmett had towed my car to the Hale's garage. I had called them first thing Monday morning to try to set up a payment plan and find out how long it was going to take to repair the car. Edward had convinced them to do it as a rush job and the mechanic I spoke to actually thought he could have it done by Wednesday, just in time to pick it up before Charlie had returned home. I could've kissed Edward for that, well, I could've kissed Edward for a lot more than that, but didn't think he'd ever be interested in that. Why would the gorgeous, intelligent, athletic, sweet Edward Cullen ever be interested in me? Plain Jane bookworm Bella Swan. The answer was simple – he never would.

I turned one more time in bed before giving up. I threw the covers off, intent on sneaking downstairs and taking another one of the painkillers Carlisle had brought for me. Carlisle said I managed to cut my hand quite deep and was actually very lucky I didn't end up in surgery for tendon damage. I was sneaking back up to the room when I heard it . . the quiet sweet music of the piano. I quietly snuck around, opening the door a crack and peeking in. Edward was hunched over the keys, dressed only in some flannel pajama bottoms. I could see the muscles in his back flex and contract as he appeared to pour his soul into the music he was playing.

"It's beautiful," I whispered when he finished the song. His head whipped around so fast I'm surprised he didn't hurt his neck. If the situation had called for it, it would've almost been funny.

"What are you doing up?" He questioned, his brow furrowing in concern.

I held my injured hand up and the glass of water. "My hand was aching, so I came down to get some pain medicine."

I bravely sat down next to him on the piano bench, "That song you were playing was beautiful," I repeated. "What's it called?"

Edward ran a hand through his messy mop of bronze colored hair. He appeared self conscious, for what I have no idea. "It doesn't exactly have a name yet. It's kind of a work in progress."

I gasped, realizing for the first time that this wasn't Edward playing some piece that some professional had written, this was his own composition. "Wow," I muttered, watching as he nervously played with one of the keys.

We talked for over an hour, about his music, about school, anything and everything basically. I was thrilled that Edward seemed comfortable enough to talk with me like this. It was nearing 4am when I started yawning.

"Come on, let's get you to bed," he whispered, taking my hand and leading me back up the stairs. "Night Bella," he whispered, kissing my cheek before turning and heading toward his room.