"Put on your seat belt," he commanded, breaking the momentary silence. I realized I had been gripping the seat tightly with both hands and swiftly obeyed, hearing the loud click as the belt securely fastened in the darkness.

He took a sharp left turn, accelerating relentlessly. Effortlessly, he blew through several stop signs without a moment's hesitation.

I didn't care; I didn't even understand what was happening. It felt like my head was trying to collect, map out everything that happened to me.

And what was currently happening, Edward shouldn't be there, he couldn't be there. Yet I was with him.

I should have been dying in some alley, beaten and bloody, but here I am, safe.

Why did I feel safe?

My body vibrated, releasing all the extra energy from the fight I never had. My hands rubbed against my legs; they ached and itched with exhaustion.

Mentally I wanted to be numb, to forget everything and cloud myself in the overwhelming relief I felt when I saw his face.

I just stared at him, taking in his flawless features in the dim light. His honey-colored eyes narrowed, almost glowing with a fiery amber intensity. His lips pulled tight into a clean flat line like a drawing. My heart sank, and my stomach churned.

He was mad, and I couldn't help but feel that it was my fault. It was my fault; I was weak, helpless…

Worthless.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, my voice weak and pitiful, hoarse and whiny.

This was my fault.

"Don't." His voice was deeper than usual, low and chilling like a growl.

He felt far more threatening than the men that nearly killed me; he always did.

So why did I feel so safe?

As we sat in silence, his blazing eyes fixed ahead. Suddenly, the car jolted to a stop, pulling me forward.

Everything was dark, the only light coming from the dashboard. I could see the vague outline of trees crowding us on each side. We weren't even driving for more than a few minutes, and we were already far away from town.

"Bela," his voice cracked slightly.

He let out a sharp breath and started again, "Bela?" His voice was still tight but controlled.

"Yes?" My voice was still rough. I tried to clear my throat quietly.

"Are you okay?" His voice came out almost as a whisper, hushed and fragile like he was scared to hear the answer.

He never looked at me, his eyes still staring violently into the darkness of the windshield. His white hands even whiter around the steering wheel.

"Yes," I answered hoarsely.

We sat for a bit in silence before he finally took a sharp breath.

"Can you do me a favor?" He tried to smile, but it looked more like an animal baring his teeth, his jaw clenched. He whispered, "Please, distract me."

Confused, I asked, "I'm sorry, what?"

He let out a sharp exhale, his frustration evident.

"Just talk about something trivial or amusing until I calm down," he clarified, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

"Um..." I wracked my brain for an amusing topic. "So, now everyone thinks Tyler Crowley is gay."

Even though he still had his eyes shut, a slight twitch appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"Why?"

"Well, because of you, he accidentally asked me to prom, and now everyone keeps joking about him getting rejected. It's kind of oddly amusing, really. Poor guy just can't catch a break," I rambled on.

"Where's the amusing part?" His tone carried more composure now.

"I don't know!" I confessed, forcing fake enthusiasm into my voice.

"You're usually the one who finds humor in situations like this!" My voice grew uneasy.

Edward sighed and finally opened his eyes.

"Are you better?"

"Not really."

I waited, but he sat like he was cut out of stone, his head back, and his eyes focused on the car's ceiling.

"What's wrong?" I whispered, under my breath.

"It's difficult to control my temper," he hissed each word, glaring out the window. I could see his eyes narrowing to pinpricks as he muttered under his breath, "I should get those..." He trailed off, his lips vibrating quickly as if he was speaking too fast, too quiet for me to hear, only adding, "Rats would be of higher value."

"Oh." The word felt like an understatement, yet I couldn't find a more adequate response.

We sat in silence once more. I stole a quick glance at the dashboard clock. It was already past six-thirty.

"Jesse and Alex are going to freak out," I complained lightly. "I was supposed to meet them."

Without uttering a word, he restarted the engine, smoothly turning the car around and accelerating back towards town. In no time, we were back under the glow of the streetlights, still maintaining a speed that was slightly excessive, effortlessly maneuvering through the slow-moving cars along the boardwalk.

He parallel-parked against the curb in a spot that I would have considered too tight and opened the door.

"What are you doing?" I asked, confused, still expecting to see the thick woods, still afraid by the anger in his face and the speed we seemed to move from location to location.

It felt like a dream, I didn't even have time to question how he knew where to come.

"I'm taking you to dinner," he answered softly before gesturing towards the actual restaurant a little further down the boardwalk, "Get rid of them."

I followed his eyes to the burger place; I saw Alex standing anxiously outside, while Jesse appeared to have gone ahead to order food.

"But…" My voice trailed off, and he put his finger up and hissed, "I don't think I could restrain myself if I ran into your other friends again." He slammed his car door.

I shivered, fumbling with my seat belt, and then hurried to get out of the car as well. He was waiting for me on the sidewalk.

"You have five minutes," he threatened casually.

He leaned against his car, and I jogged over, "Jess! Alex!"

They both seemed to relax as soon as they saw my face.

"What the hell dude!?" Jesse yelled; he seemed genuinely mad, not that I was late but that I was missing.

"Sorry I got lost," I admitted sheepishly. "And then I ran into Edward." I gestured to his car but he was already walking towards me.

"I was planning on going to eat down the boardwalk," he pointed to the restaurant, and I added unconvincingly "Yeah, and I wanted to try it too, so is it cool if we change the spot?"

Alex softly confessed, "Sorry, we already ate."

Jesse just nodded and shrugged indifferently.

"I can take him home since you've already eaten," Edward offered, tapping his finger against his leg in perfect rhythm like a clock.

Jesse glanced at me and asked, "You cool with that, bro?" I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, and he gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

One of the things I appreciated about Jesse was his lack of unnecessary questions.

"Cool, call me when you get home!" he called out, making his way towards his car. Alex bid me a brief "bye!" before quickly following Jesse, giving me a small wave before they disappeared around the corner.

"That was six minutes," he said plainly, his face dropping to emptiness the moment they left. "Let's go." He started toward the restaurant.

"Honestly, I'm not hungry," I followed behind him, insisting.

"Humor me." His voice was dismissive, plain.

He waited for me at the door and held it open with an obstinate expression. Obviously, there would be no further discussion. I walked past him into the restaurant with an embarrassed sigh.

The restaurant wasn't crowded; it was the off-season in Port Angeles. The host, a woman, appeared captivated by Edward, welcoming him like the king of England. She barely glanced at me.

She was attractive, with long legs, pouty lips, and a well-formed body. I might have fallen in love if I weren't out with Edward.

"A table for two." His voice was cold, collected and undoubtedly alluring. I could see her shiver as she heard it, her face turning a soft shade of pink under her makeup.

"Aww are you his little brother?" She smiled over at me and I just smiled softly.

She led us to a big table, in the center of the most crowded area of the dining floor. It had enough chairs for at least four more people.

I was about to sit, but Edward shook his head at me.

"I'd prefer more privacy," he insisted quietly to the host. I wasn't sure, but it looked like he smoothly handed her a tip. I'd never seen anyone refuse a table except in old movies.

"Sure." She sounded as surprised as I was. She turned and led us around a partition to a small ring of booths - all of them empty. "How's this?"

"Perfect." He flashed his gleaming smile, dazing her momentarily.

Her face flushed completely pink and she looked down embarrassed, "your server will be right out." She walked away as fast as she could.

"You really shouldn't do that to people," I criticized. "It's hardly fair."

"Do what?"

"Dazzle them like that - she's probably going to try to get your number."

He seemed confused.

"Oh, come on," I said dubiously. "You have that effect on people."

He tilted his head to one side, and innocently asked. "I dazzle people?"

"I know what you're doing."

He smirked, ignoring my comment, "Do I dazzle you?"

My face turned completely red and I whispered under my breath, "no..."

He laughed softly under his breath.

It took only a few minutes for our server to arrive, she was adorable, short black hair, really nice legs and an impossibly short skirt.

Her eyes were of course on Edward as she flipped her hair and smiled at him expectantly.

Mine, I'm ashamed to admit, was on her hiking skirt.

"Hello. My name is Amber, and I'll be your server tonight. What can I get you to drink?" She never looked at me, I'm not even sure if she knew I was there.

He looked at me.

"I'll have a Coke?" I answered slowly.

"Two Cokes," he corrected.

"I'll be right back with that," she assured him with another unnecessary smile. But he didn't see it. He was watching me.

"What?" I asked softly, looking away, hoping he didn't see me creeping on her.

I didn't care about her, wasn't interested, but it felt like I should look, show some interest. She was beautiful and it would be weird not to look at her.

"How are you feeling?" He asked softly.

"I'm fine," I replied with a shrug.

"You don't feel dizzy, sick, cold... ?" He rattled off symptoms quickly.

"Should I?"

He chuckled at my puzzled tone.

"Well yes." He said softly, "I can only assume you are in shock."

His face twisted up into that perfect crooked smile.

"I am not," I said dubiously. "I mean nothing feels real but I think that's unrelated." I played with my hands under the table.

He laughed softly, "Just the same, I'll feel better when you eat something."

Right on cue, the waitress appeared with our drinks and a basket of breadsticks. She stood with her back to me as she placed them on the table.

"Are you ready to order?" she asked Edward.

"You?" he asked, gesturing towards me. She turned unwillingly toward me.

I picked the first thing I saw on the menu. "Um... I'll have the mushroom ravioli."

"And you?" She turned back to him with a smile.

"Nothing for me," he said. Of course not.

"Let me know if you change your mind." The coy smile was still in place, but he wasn't looking at her, and she left annoyed.

"Drink," he ordered.

I obediently sipped at my soda, then drank more deeply, surprised by my thirst. I noticed I had finished the whole thing when he pushed his glass toward me.

"Thanks," I muttered, still thirsty. The cold from the icy soda was radiating through my chest, and I shivered.

"Cold?"

"It's just the Coke," I explained, shivering again.

"Don't you have a jacket?" He frowned.

"Yes." I looked at the empty bench next to me. "Oh - I left it in Jesse's car," I laughed awkwardly.

Edward was already shrugging out of his jacket and I watched him. Watched him like he was a work of art.

Yet something else caught my attention, I had never once noticed what he was wearing - not just that night, but ever.

I made myself look now, focusing. He was removing a light beige leather jacket now; underneath he wore an ivory turtleneck sweater. It fit him tight, I could almost trace the lines of his body under it and nearly drooled at the idea.

He pushed the jacket towards me interrupting my ogling. I stopped his hands looking around slightly, "I am fine, Thanks."

What if someone saw us and thought this was a date? Why did he never care?

He frowned and got up to quickly cover me with his jacket, "you need it more than me."

Why did he never care?

I gave in quickly purely because it felt more silly to keep denying it, while shivering every time someone opened the door.

The jacket felt cold even through my clothes, the way my jacket felt when I first picked it up in the morning, hanging in the drafty hallway.

I shivered again but quickly felt warm when I smelled it. I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs with the warm honey scent. I slowly stuck my arms in the sleeves enjoying the new smells every time I moved.

I never felt so warm before, I'm sure even the sun would feel cold next to me.

"It suits you," he said, watching me as if he understood, as if he wasn't confused by the way I melted just from the smell of him.

He pushed the bread basket toward me.

"Really, I'm not in shock," I protested.

"You should be - it's like you have a death wish. You never respond correctly to life-threatening situations." He appeared unsettled.

Staring into my eyes, I saw how light his eyes were, lighter than I'd ever seen them, an almost pale golden butterscotch.

"I am fine," I answered, mesmerized into telling the truth again.

He frowned deeply and shook his head.

"I didn't think this through," he murmured to himself.

I watched him as I ate a breadstick, he shifted uncomfortably, pushed his hair back multiple times then squeezed the bridge of his nose again.

He looked so upset, not angry or sad but on edge and nervous. He tapped his finger quickly keeping in tune with the barely audible jazz being played from the speakers in the back of the restaurant.

"Usually you're in a better mood when your eyes are so light," I commented, trying to distract him like I did in the car.

He stared at me, stunned. "What?"

"You're meaner when your eyes are dark - I expect it then," I continued. "I have a theory about that."

His eyes narrowed. "More theories?"

"Mm-hm." Finished off the bread stick, trying to look indifferent.

"I hope you were more creative this time... or are you still stealing from comic books?" He mocked me slightly but his voice was tight and his eyes followed me.

"Well, no, I didn't get it from a comic book, but I didn't come up with it on my own, either," I confessed.

"And?" he prompted.

The waitress was suddenly back, leaning against the food trolley. Her shirt was missing the first two buttons and her breast pushed up against the handle.

It wasn't until she was already at our table that I realized how close we were sitting, our faces inches from each other. We both straightened up as she set the dish in front of me - it looked pretty good - and turned quickly to Edward.

"Did you change your mind?" she asked. "I am sure I can get you something good." She leaned towards him lifting her legs and my eyes couldn't help but drift to her skirt.

Edward chuckled in a way that would sound nice if you never heard him laugh. "Perhaps another time." He gestured towards the empty cups on the table in front of me. "Although, a little more pop would be appreciated." His voice was soft, understanding, but cold and distant.

Was he annoyed?

"Sure." She removed the empty glasses and walked away.

"You were saying?" he asked.

"I'll tell you about it in the car. If..." I paused.

"There are conditions?" He raised one eyebrow, his voice ominous.

"I do have a few questions, of course."

"Of course." He smiled wryly.

The waitress was back with two more Cokes. She sat them down without a word this time, and left again.

I stared at them and the food, I was sure she spit in one if not all of it purely because I was in her way.

"don't worry," he said softly, "she didn't spit in it."

"how did you…" I started before shaking my head and taking a sip.

"You are always full of questions," he mused.

"I try not to be," I said softly, putting down the glass.

"And yet here we are," he said curtly, like he was disappointed. "Well, go ahead," he leaned in.

"Why are you in Port Angeles?"

He looked down, folding his white hands together slowly on the table. His eyes flickered up at me from under his lashes, the hint of a smirk on his face.

"Next."

"Come on," I objected.

"Next," he repeated with a soft laugh.

I looked down, frustrated. I unrolled my silverware, picked up my fork, and carefully speared the ravioli. I put it in my mouth slowly, still looking down, chewing while I thought. The mushrooms were good. I swallowed and took another sip of Coke before I looked up.

"Okay, then." I tried to look up at him as innocently as possible, and continued slowly. "Let's say, hypothetically of course, Professor X..."

He laughed and interrupted, "Comics again?"

Ignoring his comment, I persisted, "Well, hypothetically speaking, he can read every mind, with a few exceptions," I explained. He smirked, correcting me, "Only one exception, hypothetically."

"Alright, with one exception," I replied, thrilled that he was playing along but trying to appear casual.

"How does that work? What are the limitations? How would he find someone else at exactly the right time, or know if his friend was in trouble?" I asked, unsure if my questions even made sense.

"Who's the friend?"

"Not important," I quickly responded, dismissing his question.

He feigned disappointment, his mischievous smirk returning, "How am I supposed to picture it then?"

"Fine, Wolverine."

He laughed, "I'd hardly compare you to wolverine, Iceman maybe."

I started to say something before pausing and conceding, "Fine, let's call him 'Joey'."

He smiled wryly. "Joe, then. If Joe had been paying attention, the timing wouldn't have needed to be quite so exact."

He shook his head, rolling his eyes. "Only you would choose the worst damn road to walk down," he let out a frustrated, strained laugh that sounded painful like a growl.

"There was no other option in their minds: grandmother, child, effeminate boys." He gestured towards me, his voice a mocking sneer.

"We were speaking of a hypothetical case," I reminded him with a weak smile.

He laughed and his face softened again.

"Yes, we were," he agreed. "We should rename the friend, Joe isn't much of a superhero name."

"How did you know?" I asked, unable to curb my intensity. I realized I was leaning toward him again.

He seemed to be wavering, torn by some internal dilemma. His eyes locked with mine, and I guessed he was making the decision right then whether or not to simply tell me the truth.

"You can trust me, you know," I murmured. I leaned forward to touch him like he always does me. First reaching for his folded hands, but he slid them away minutely.

"I don't know if I have a choice anymore." His voice was almost a whisper. "I thought you were supposed to stay dumb."

"Sorry I'm bad at a lot of things."

"I've noticed." He shook his head, "like staying out of trouble. You're not a magnet for accidents - that's not a broad enough classification. You are a magnet for trouble. If there is anything dangerous within a ten-mile radius, it will invariably find you."

"That must be difficult for you," I guessed.

His face turned cold, expressionless. "Exceptionally."