The getting-to-know-you phase is one of the best parts of any relationship. But, like every other aspect of vampire-human relations, it comes with its ups and downs. Bella and Edward are desperate to learn more about each other, as long as that doesn't mean that people think that they-you know, like each other.

This was supposed to be up two weeks ago, but I came down with the worst summer cold in recorded history. If you leave a comment, I'll print it out and frame it and hang it on my wall. If you've already left a comment, know that I've read it at least a thousand times and smiled every time. I'll try to actually respond to them this time.

I didn't have until the end of the assembly. As we stumbled into the gym, Jessica gripped my sleeve fervently. "So?" she demanded in a whisper, steering us both toward where Angela was already sitting down. "Are you going to tell me what that was all about?"

I was not. "It's nothing," I said, searching my mind wildly for any explanation that didn't include the v-word. "Just homework." I had never been a good liar, in spite of my years of placating Renee's anxiety with half-truths. She was as bad at picking up on lies as I was at telling them.

"Just—just homework!" Jessica was nearly spluttering with delighted indignation. "You're hanging out, repeatedly, with the cutest boy in school—don't get me wrong, I'm happy with Mike, but I have definitely crushed—please tell me that you appreciate it properly."

I met his eyes across the sea of seated students. He looked decidedly amused. Was he viewing the conversation through Jessica's mind, or did they all have super senses? I assumed that they did. Super speed wouldn't work very well without an enhanced ability to process your surroundings, I supposed.

"Bella!" Jessica pleaded, pulling me down to the floor with her. I offered no resistance, still trying to figure out how in the world I was supposed to explain my association with Edward. I was going to have to lie better.

"I'm not sure what it is," I said. That part was true. "We've just been… running into each other lately." Also true. "Maybe it'll go somewhere." That part definitely wasn't true. "Don't put pressure on it." Or me.

Jessica looked as though she were going to scream but the mic squealed loudly as Mr. Greene stepped to the front of the stage to address the assembly. I immediately zoned out, trying to figure out how to juggle continuing to talk to Edward with the fishbowl that was Forks High. I had never snuck around before and I wasn't quite sure where to start.

I was no closer to an answer by the time the assembly wrapped up, an hour later. The last class of the day had been canceled for everyone and the mood of the student body was positively jubilant. I didn't have to fake the smile on my face—missing gym for any reason was a victory, however small—as I let myself be buoyed out the door by the crowd, conveniently separated from Jessica before she could pounce on me again.

"Do you want to do some homework together?"

My heart skipped at the low voice in my ear and I whirled around to see Edward looming behind me, still looking amused. "I think we're already drawing too much attention," I mumbled halfheartedly, hoping nobody else would hear me. I didn't want to stop spending time with him, I just didn't want people to notice that it was happening.

"We'll be discreet," he promised, angling us both across the crowd towards where my truck was parked.

Perfect. I allowed myself to be guided, admiring the way the sea of students parted in front of him. They seemed to be extra aware of his presence without even noticing their reactions. I was certainly hyperaware of his hand as it hovered near the small of my back. Surely that was a standard response to being around a vampire? I blocked the thought from my mind as we separated, heading toward our respective cars as though we were strangers.

An hour later I sat criss-cross on my bed, twisting my fingers into a fuzzy yellow throw. Edward was casually draped across the rocking chair that had been in my room since I was a baby, somehow making the dilapidated piece of furniture look perfectly dignified. I pressed the tip of my tongue against my teeth, trying to decide what I could ask him next.

"Tell me more about the telepathy," I asked, breaking the silence.

Edward steepled his fingers together and frowned absently over them in my direction. "Can we negotiate a new deal?"

I was instantly on the defensive. "What kind of new deal?"

"I get to ask a question for each one I answer."

It was my turn to frown. "Why? I'm not the secret immortal."

"You're interesting," he said, calm and certain of himself. "I want to know who you are."

"Just because you can't read my mind doesn't mean that—" I argued, but he put a hand up to stop me.

"It's not just that," he said. "I mean, that's part of it—if I could, I might not have to ask as many questions. But just because you can read someone's current thoughts doesn't mean you understand who they are as a person. That's a much longer process. I want to know who you are, not just what's on your mind."

I dug my fingers deeper into the comforting blanket, turning his statement over in my mind. It didn't make sense to me—I wasn't interesting—but I couldn't think of any sinister reasons. "Deal," I finally said.

"Deal," Edward agreed, looking satisfied. "I've always been good at reading people, but after I—woke up, all of a sudden I could read their thoughts as well. It's not uncommon for the transformation to intensify aspects of the individual's existence."

"Aspects?" I asked. "Like, personality traits or skills or experiences or—" I caught myself, blushing at my inability to keep my mouth shut. "Sorry, I know that's another question."

"I'll give you a freebie," he smiled, "because it's a good question." He leaned back in the chair, looking as comfortable as if he belonged. "It's usually traits. Someone who was prone to anger as a human can become sort of a berserker as a vampire. A very charismatic person might become almost irresistible, either in a beautiful way or in a… a truly compelling way. Much more rarely, a skill gets enhanced. A very good hunter might develop the ability to track things, or people. A good people-reader might become a telepath or a lie detector. A storyteller might become an illusionist. I think everyone gets amplified, but it isn't usually particularly noticeable."

I nibbled on my lower lip, thinking about what he was saying. I wanted to ask another question but I wasn't sure quite how far the freebie extended. "I guess it's your turn," I said, finally.

"What do you want to do with your life?" he asked immediately, as though the words had already been queued up.

My answer was just as quick. "A journalist. I want to know things and educate people and bring facts to light and—and, well, I want to have some kind of impact, however small, on the people around me. If I could know that maybe I helped someone understand the world better, I'll feel successful. I want to discover things—not like science, but events, things that impact people's lives directly." I took a breath, surprised that I had been so forthcoming. Across from me, Edward looked surprise and a little wary. "Not about this, of course," I clarified hastily. "I can understand why this needs to be secret. But other things…" I trailed off. "I must sound awfully naïve, but I just… I want to know why the world is the way it is, and journalism covers all of it. Scientific discoveries and world economies and political systems and the psychology of crime and… I want to know." I finally managed to cut myself off, biting my lip again for how much I had babbled.

The caution melted from his expression and he met my gaze squarely, eyes bright. "You're an interesting girl, Bella."

I blushed. "I'm nothing out of the ordinary."

"On the contrary," Edward said, then paused as if uncertain whether or not he should continue. "I think you're extraordinary."

I squirmed, desperate to change the subject. "Why do your eyes change color?"

He smiled, but didn't protest. "The hungrier I am, the darker they are."

I snorted. "You have a built-in hunger-o-meter? Why?"

"That's another question," he objected, one corner of his mouth quirking upward. "But to answer it, I'm not sure that anyone has discovered a reason. Something about our altered metabolism, perhaps."

I bit my tongue to stifle the next question. "Your turn."

"If you dislike Forks so much, why are you here?"

I wrinkled my nose. "My mother remarried. Don't get me wrong, I like Phil, but… he's a baseball player without a contract. He moves around a lot. She couldn't, not without homeschooling me, and that would be a disaster. So, Forks, with Charlie." Having an amicable—if heartbroken, on Charlie's part—divorce meant that they could negotiate their own custody agreements. Renee had never really answered when I asked her why she had taken me with her. I tried not to let the old question rankle.

"There's something you're not saying." Edward leaned forward, capturing my gaze. "I've been honest with you."

"I just…" I grimaced, unhappy that I had been so easily read. "I don't know why I didn't grow up in Forks. Renee has never been the motherly type, it would have made more sense to leave me with Charlie. Stable living situation, stable job… stable parent." I shrugged. "Maybe if I had grown up here, I would like it."

He nodded, thoughtful. "Maybe. And maybe you wouldn't. Plenty of people don't like where they grew up. It's your turn."

What I really wanted to ask was what his human life had been like, but that felt too personal. On the other hand, his questions had been aggressively personal, so maybe it wouldn't be too much. Maybe I should try to lead up to it. "Why don't you sound like you're from 1918? I mean—you're a hundred and four years old, shouldn't you be saying things like 'I'm all in a flap!' and 'Applesauce!' and 'noodle juice'?" I wasn't going to admit that I'd looked up twenties slang one night in a fit of curiosity.

Edward's expression melted into the largest grin I'd ever seen from him. "Aren't you a hotsy-totsy?" His tone was admiring and I blushed again in the face of his regard. "Our brains are more plastic than humans', so we learn new things as long as we keep exposing ourselves to them. The truly ancient vampires usually stop bothering, or maybe they reach their limits. We don't really have scientists to study the issue."

"So you learn the new slang as it comes along?"

His grin broadened. "I hang with my peeps and learn hella slang."

The words startled a laugh out of me and I raised a hand to cover my smile. "I'm convinced." Edward was still leaning forward, and—I realized—so was I. Our faces were separated by less than two feet as our eyes locked in shared amusement. I swallowed and pulled backward, settling my weight more firmly onto the bed. "Your turn."

His eyes softened as he, too, leaned back against the rocking chair. "Tell me about your friends."

The next hour passed swiftly as I described Jackie, my closest friend from Phoenix, talking about her knack for languages and her long black hair and the way she scrunched her face when she was thinking hard. I explained how Jessica drew me out of my shell and affectionately bullied me into participating, but never in a way that made me uncomfortable, and how Angela was the kind of person you could sit in silence with without feeling awkward; I discussed Mike's passion for science and Jake's terrible sense of humor.

"No boyfriends?' he asked, carefully uninterested.

"No," I replied, carefully uncaring.

He returned the confidence by outlining the particulars of his human life: his loving mother, his desire to be a detective, the urge to defend the innocent that made him try to enlist in the first World War three times while still underage.

I traded my favorite color (brown, because it feels warm and rich) for his favorite vampire upgrade (speed, with smell as a close second); he told me that he felt most at home on the plains of Nebraska (where he had spent his first few years after transformation) and I admitted that I had watched every episode of Star Trek—but Voyager was my favorite.

His questions ranged from what books I liked to read to best and worst childhood memories. I tried to keep mine more focused on the vampiric existence—what's the most flavorful animal (anything carnivorous, for some reason, though the preference was rarely indulged), who's the most interesting vampire you've met (a six-thousand year old nomad who had once been a Maya king and a Russian Tsar—but occasionally a personal question would slip through, such as when I impulsively asked whether there was anything he had done that he wouldn't have done as a human that he would like to change.

His gaze darkened and I immediately regretted the question, but it was too late to retract it. "Yes," he answered, voice quiet. "I've done quite a few things that I'd like to change."

I was smart enough not to press for details. "I'm sorry," I replied, also quiet.

Edward shrugged. "What's done is done. All that's left is to be better in the future." His eyes looked sad in spite of his hopeful words.

"I'm sorry," I repeated, biting my lip until I tasted the metallic tang of blood. Edward went rigid and wide-eyed, no longer curled leisurely in the rocking chair but coiled, ready to spring.

"Open the window," he said, very slowly, barely opening his mouth to speak.

I slid across the bed to obey without walking past him, realizing only too late that super senses, vampiric thirst, and blood were a terrible mix. My hands shook as I undid the catch and pushed the window upward; tension had bled into the atmosphere in the bedroom and I could feel how close to disaster we both were.

"Get back on the bed," he said next, and I did, trusting that he knew best how to resolve the situation. As soon as my feet were off the floor he moved, more quickly than my eyes could process, darting from the chair through the window.

I gasped, almost rushing to look out after him and only just barely containing myself. His head reappeared; he was bracing himself on the sill with one arm, looking as comfortable as if he were still sprawled in the rocking chair rather than dangling twenty feet in the air. "We'll talk more this weekend," he promised, before pushing himself backward and allowing himself to drop.

My heart was racing as I leaned against my headboard, still staring out into the darkness. I should be frightened, I thought, at least as frightened as in Port Angeles. But I wasn't. I was… excited. I couldn't wait to see Edward Cullen again.