A/N: Special thanks to MaggieLoo402 for her help.

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight universe and characters. No infringement intended.

Chapter 2

BPOV

I hated flying. Most people who hate flying do so out of fear. Fear that the plane will crash during take off or upon landing. Fear that it will simply fall from the sky due to mechanical failure or turbulence. I could give a shit about dying enroute; if you're number's up, there's not much that you could do about it. I don't have a firm belief system established, but I pretty much prescribe to a "what will be, will be" mode di operandi.

Nope, it wasn't death that bothered me whenever I boarded a plane. It was the fucking people.

I used to put up with having to sit next to smelly strangers, crying children and leering men, but since I started earning and saving my own money, I decided that I could spend it however I wanted, including buying either seat beside me whenever I had to fly anywhere. Screw the budget, inflation, and green conservation.

First class was a better option, of course, but even there, I wasn't safe. Invariably, businessmen wanted to chat me up, completely disregarding all my obvious 'I don't want to talk' wards. Ipod? Check. Blanket? Check. Pillow? Check. Even if my eyes were closed, I'd still get some suave-acting douche lean over and ask me questions, or tell me about his flight plan and obligations.

My final preparatory act for long plane rides included 2 pink Gravol tablets. Fuckers can't miss my comatose drool, and deep, heavy snore.

It was after waiting fifteen minutes for the last of the baggage to arrive for me to have collected all of my belongings. I was barely awake, because Gravol always did a number on me, and I was glad, for once, that I wasn't driving the rest of the leg to my final destination. I wasn't even worried about the driver who was picking me up. I knew that as soon as we got moving again, I'd be down for the count.

I checked my reflection in the stainless steel of the baggage carousel quickly, before exiting the Arrivals gate. I didn't look bleary-eyed, but my balance was certainly off. I was too busy to notice much except for my name printed on a white card held by a crazy ginger headed guy. I stumbled over my baggage, which he quickly made a grab for.

After a brief introduction, we made our way to the car in the shittiest weather that I had been in since the previous spring and we were on our way.

True to form, he asked me a couple of questions, and I answered as briefly as possible. Not ten minutes into our ride, I was already asleep.

I awoke to a buzzing in my front pocket, and at first, didn't know where the hell I was. A quick look over at the Edward guy reminded me, and I answered Charlie's questions as quickly as possible. I promised I'd call him later that night but conversations with him were always short and sweet.

Edward prattled on after offering me food and candy. It was if I had just noticed him for the first time. He had the wickedest hair, which defied description. I couldn't tell if it was brown, red, or what. My initial guess was that it had to be a dye job, but Edward, in his rather bland outfit of jeans, boots and sweater didn't seem the type to endure much time in a salon.

I was glad that Edward was chatty. I was more relieved to note that he felt no urge to get me to chat back. Rather, he seemed content to point out familiar landmarks as we entered town. After walking me to the door and giving me the keys to my new digs, he let himself out, allowing me to look over the apartment at my own leisure.

He seemed pretty cool, I supposed.