Spring 2005

Soup was the best remedy for a bad day.

At least it was in Forks. In Phoenix, Bella would have drowned her sorrows with a tub of ice cream or an order of queso. Under the constant cover of clouds and ever-present mist, heavy cream, a mirepoix, and cheese-stuffed pasta offered Bella the comfort she craved.

"What happened to the truck?" were the first words out of Charlie's mouth as he barreled through the front door. Not, "boy, that sure smells delicious," or "thank you for cooking dinner," or even "is everything alright?" He stomped into the kitchen still donned in his police uniform—gun holster and all. "You said you could drive stick."

"I can. I hurt my foot at school, and someone drove me home. They're going to drop the truck off any second now."

"I bought you that truck in good faith, young lady." He shoved a finger in her direction. "You will pay for any accidents. Caused by you or anyone else."

Bella knew for a fact that Charlie's friend had given him the rusted, old Chevy simply to get it out of his garage. Instead of pointing that out, she said, "The thing's a tank, Dad. No one can hurt it."

Charlie grunted, unsatisfied, and stalked out of the room. Bella found that Charlie was often unsatisfied when it came to her. Never heartless or cruel or negligent, simply… unsatisfied. She frowned at her soup. She made her father dinner the first week she lived in Forks, to show off a little. Renee always praised Bella for being a good cook. She wanted to receive the same accolades from Charlie. Until he regarded her cherished recipes with the same indifference he would for gas station hot dogs. Before she knew it, they had fallen into a routine. Now, every night, she made dinner for an unresponsive, unappreciative audience.

She poured the pasta into the simmering broth when a familiar roar of an engine sounded down the street. Her old truck was always heard before it was seen. Charlie joined Bella at the front door. They stood together under the awning and watched Mike emerge from the truck. He jogged across the sodden lawn to meet them, giving a friendly, little wave.

"If it isn't Mike Newton," Charlie called out through the rain, an unfamiliar smile on his face. "Good to see you, kid. How's the family?"

"Doing well, Sir." Mike grabbed Charlie's outstretched hand with a hearty shake. "How's that foot, Arizona?"

"Foot?" Charlie asked. "She hurt her foot?"

"Sports-related injury," Mike answered over Bella. "Shame to say your girl's out of the kickball league."

Charlie rubbed his temples and heaved a world-weary sigh. "Kickball, Bella? Seriously?"

"I'm fine," Bella insisted, "It was never that bad, honestly… You didn't have to drive me home. Really."

"Nah, don't give me that. It was the least I could do. I was the cause, after all."

"We appreciate you taking the time out of your busy schedule to help her out."

"Ah, Bella will come up with a way to thank me." Mike's smile widened as he studied Bella from head to toe. She regretted switching to her pajamas so early in the day, though she always had. She wished she still wore her thick sweater, instead of a small white T-shirt.

"Thanks, Mike." Bella hoped Mike could hear the dismissal in her tone.

"If you'd like, you can stay for dinner," Charlie offered on her behalf. "Bella has something on the stove."

"Um…" Bella began, struggling to come up with a polite way to rescind to offer. Thankfully, a blue sedan pulled in after the truck. The driver honked the horn.

"My ride's here. Raincheck on dinner, though." He shook Charlie's hand again. "Good night, Sir. See you at school, Bella."

Bella and Charlie lingered on the porch until Mike was in the car, driving away. Once the car was out of sight, Bella hurried to the kitchen, worried her soup would boil over. It was fine, the pasta was nearly al dente.

"So… the Newton kid." Bella nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of her father's voice. She hadn't expected him to follow her into the kitchen.

Bella's hand flew to her heart. The other stirred the soup. "What about him?"

"Star of the hockey team. Homerun champion of the baseball team. Can't do much better than that."

He seemed more besotted with the boy than Bella was. "He's not my boyfriend, Dad."

"I didn't say he was. What I am saying is if a boy like that is interested in you, you're in no position to turn him away. Why didn't you offer him dinner?"

"Because I only made enough for two!"

He spoke over her, "He's a good, ambitious kid. Has every intention to join the force after he graduates. He'll have his life together before other kids are out of their parent's basements."

Bella bit her cheek. Charlie clearly saw himself in Mike, back in his glory days. Star athlete, youngest officer on the force. If Mike continued to follow Charlie's footsteps, he would be married with a baby on the way by this time next year. If his ridiculous ravings meant anything, Charlie hoped Bella would be Mike's Renee. She placed her hand on her belly and shuddered as if she could feel the presence of the hypothetical child.

"Is that ready?"

"Yeah," Bella swallowed. She turned too quickly, whacking her elbow against the counter. She cradled it in her other hand as she spooned some soup into a bowl for Charlie.

"I better stay in the kitchen," Bella announced as Charlie left to enjoy his meal from his recliner. He didn't make any acknowledgment that he even heard her. "I don't want to spill any soup on myself."

Alone, Bella sat at the kitchen table. The gentle pitter-patter of rain nearly covered the dull blathering of sports news from the living room. She blew lightly on the spoon of steaming soup and sipped. It was perfection. Not that anyone else would ever know. She opened her book. Not so much for amusement, but to fill her mind with anything else than her own thoughts.

oOo

Friday featured the first dry morning of the week. Students clustered around the picnic tables in front of the school, eager to take advantage of "nice" weather. Bella pulled her truck into a spot near the shabbiest table, covered in leaves and bracken from a massive hemlock. By the time she'd collected her belongings, the table was occupied. Jessica and Lauren perched on the top of the table, using the broken bench as a footrest.

Bella emerged from her truck, uncertain whether she should join them or not. Usually, the two girls carried out the conversation themselves, leaving Bella to her own devices. The question was answered the moment Jessica opened her mouth. "It's so funny. Edward Cullen has been in Spanish every day this week, but he hasn't come to Biology once. I wonder what the difference could be?"

Masen, Bella corrected Jessica in her head. He told her his last name was Masen. She couldn't fathom why anyone would lie about something as trivial as their last name.

Perhaps he used his uncle's last name in enrollment.

Perhaps his middle name was Masen, and he never gave her his full name.

Perhaps he was simply a pathological liar.

Gnawing her lip, Bella turned towards the bed of her truck. All week long, Jessica and Lauren spoke of him in front of her. It irritated her to no end. Not only because the girls figured out what buttons to push on day one, but because Bella depended on their conversations to satiate her gnawing curiosity. She could have easily gone into her homeroom to read like she did on any rainy day, but she remained by her truck to hear what they had to say. She was playing into their hand and couldn't stop herself.

"I guess he leaves before school is over."

"That's the wild part. Spanish is after Biology. He'll leave if Senorita Geoff ends the lesson early for independent conversation, but other than that, he's there."

"He'll leave before the easiest part of class?" Lauren sniffed. "I wonder what his problem is."

"Who knows? I mean, he's an only child from some remote place in Alaska. I looked it up once. It's lamer than Forks. Imagine being homeschooled in the middle of nowhere. It's no wonder his mom snapped, or whatever."

Wrong, wrong, wrong, Bella thought, indignantly. He had four siblings, whom he loved desperately. He went to high school in Chicago where he ran track and played piano for the glee club.

"Oh my god." Lauren gasped, "What if he's shy!?"

The girls squealed with delight. They cooed and fawned and romanticized; it was more than Bella could stand. He wasn't shy. He was outgoing and clever and witty and…

And nothing.

Bella knew nothing about him. And she had no desire to learn anything else.

She set her jaw and focused on her book, determined to ignore them. Merely two paragraphs in, her hands were suddenly empty. She blinked; Mike flipped through the pages, losing her spot.

"What class is this for?" he asked.

The chattering ceased as Jessica and Lauren turned their attention towards them.

"It's not for any class!" Bella tried to snatch her book back, but Mike held it overhead, still flipping the pages over his thumb.

"But it's about school stuff. It's bad enough we gotta read Shakespeare. Why would you read about him, too?"

Eric rested his elbows on the hood of her truck. "Because she doesn't waste her time with fictional nonsense. She's too smart for that," he blinked, dreamily.

Bella clenched her jaw. There was nothing wrong with literary fiction. She preferred it. It just so happened that Bella hadn't read anything but non-fiction since the summer. But that wasn't anyone's business but her own.

"I don't know why anyone would read anything outside of school, anyway. I can't keep up with what we already have. Maybe I should get a tutor." Mike tossed Bella her book and a wink. Bella juggled it in the air before she awkwardly caught it against her stomach with both arms. Lauren and Jessica cackled. Mike said something in her defense as she paged through the book, searching for her place. She finally found her page when there was a gasp, and shout, and a burst of wetness on her stomach.

She stared in shock at Tyler Crowly, standing before her with an empty energy drink can. The bright-red, sticky substance was on her sweater and her book.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry," Tyler started, though he did not sound the least bit sorry. His hand theatrically flew to the top of his head. "Here, let me make it up to you…" he dug through his bag. "Why don't you wear my jersey for the rest of the day."

Bella seethed. She couldn't believe this boy would be so stupid to think she would let him claim her as his. She was not some prize on which he could stake his claim. Especially not by such a cowardly trick, which cost Bella two personal items as well as her dignity. She snatched his jersey, prepared to ball it up and throw it into his face when something caught her eye.

A bronze head of hair emerging from a shiny, silver car. Despite the dozens of students in the parking lot, his eyes immediately found hers. Completely void of emotion.

That would not do.

Bella spent the entire week wondering where he was. Fruitlessly searched for him in crowds, uncertain of whether to be elated or dismal when she could not find him. Bella would not accept his indifference.

Ignoring Eric and Mike's protests and Lauren's baleful glare, Bella pulled the ruined sweater over her head. Cheers and whistles exploded across the parking lot, though she wore a tank top underneath. The stupid jersey was huge and smelled like cheap body spray, but it was at least comfortable. She smoothed her hair, coyly glancing in the direction of the silver car.

Golden lightning flashed. Bella felt a jolt as if stuck by the electricity.

"Thank you," she said in a quiet voice.

"That's a good look on you," Tyler said, rubbing his palms together like a greedy miser. "You should keep it."

A cruel retort bubbled on Bella's lips. She swallowed it and turned on her heels, angry tears prickling in the corners of her eyes. She spent the rest of the school day ignoring sly remarks and curious eyes as rumors of her and Tyler spread through the school like a fungus. Eric and Mike were incorrigible, not giving her a moment's silence even when she pulled out her ruined book or placed headphones over her ears. Jessica and Lauren were the opposite, actively working to keep her out of the conversation.

The green jersey felt more like a scarlet letter.

However, Bella's endurance paid off.

There were many eyes on her during lunch, but only one set mattered. The figure smoking outside paced the length of the patio, like a restless tiger in its cage. More often than once, his gaze fell on Bella. So blatantly, Jessica pointed it out to Lauren. Better than that, her table in Biology was occupied. Shaking, just a little, she joined him. He said nothing—did nothing but stare straight ahead—but Bella didn't expect him to. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear him speak, anyway. To be near him was enough.

She risked a tiny inhalation through her nose. He smelled just as she remembered. It overwhelmed her senses until she was nearly dizzy. As Mr. Banner began the day's lecture, Bella closed her eyes and returned to a better place and a softer time.

Summer 2004

Sitka, Alaska could be beautiful, when it put forward the proper effort. When the clouds thinned enough to clear out the fog, the world stretched out endlessly on either side. In front of the town was the ocean, dark and churning even on the calmest days. Behind the town, white-tipped mountains rolled out like white-capped waves. Nestled right in the nook of two infinite expanses, was the cluster of buildings, painted a myriad of bright colors.

The morning was nice enough that Bella took her time on her walk. When she entered the music store, Edward was already with customers. A small family in backpacking gear surrounded the cassette rack and a couple looked longingly at a guitar. Edward gave her a single nod of her head as she went up to the loft.

At the top, Bella looked out the windows that overlooked the ocean. It was always too dark outside to appreciate the view.

Bella always liked the ocean. It terrified Renee. She usually kept them landlocked, ranting about sharks and riptides and drop-offs. They don't even know what's in there, Renee would warn through clenched teeth. Her warning only made the ocean more enticing. The mystery the ocean presented thrilled Bella. The large percentage of unexplored depth could reveal anything. She wasn't a strong swimmer. And she definitely didn't trust her luck to hold out long enough for safe passage on a boat. So, like most things in her life, Bella settled to merely look on, from a distance. An easy compromise when the view was as lovely as it was. Rays of sunlight illuminated the water. The ocean sparkled before her.

Then, a big, ugly stick reached up and wretched down hidden blinds, covering the magic. Bella frowned over the railing down at Edward, who was too busy adjusting the shade on the door to notice. Peeved, she went to the same chair as yesterday and pulled out her book. Relying on artificial light to see, like a loser.

Another group arrived after the family left, but eventually, Edward made it up to the loft.

"Don't you dare say a word," Bella warned, hiding her copy of Romeo & Juliet behind her back. "Whatever you have to say about this play, I don't want to hear it."

"Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs; being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; being vexed, a sea nourished with loving tears."

The shop could have caught fire and Bella would not have noticed; her skin was so hot. Nothing could have prepared her for the thrill of hearing Shakespeare recited in Edward's voice, soft as velvet, sweet as honey.

"What is it else? A madness most discreet, a choking gall, and a preserving sweet." As he recited his lines, he flipped on one of his many record players. Soft rock filtered into the room as he collapsed on one of the chairs on the opposite side of the loft. "You don't find it the teeniest bit fickle that Romeo is speaking of Rosaline here?"

"Edward…"

"Sorry, sorry. What's wrong? You usually enjoy our literary debates."

"I'm fine," she said. However, as it often did, her face gave her away. Try as she might, she couldn't hide her scowl, even when she tucked her lips between her teeth.

"What's wrong?" he pressed.

"Nothing, nothing," she tried to deflect again. Then, realizing it was useless for her to lie, said, "You don't need to be berated by me first thing in the morning."

Sprawling out on the chair, he rested one hand on his forehead. "Nonsense. The morning is a great time for a bit of self-improvement." He curled his fingers, encouragingly. "Let's hear it."

"Why do you ruin everything?"

"Boy, what a loaded question," he grinned. "You're not the first to ask, either. I think most would agree it has something to do with my startling lack of self-respect."

"You could have left the blinds open."

"Ah."

"The sun shines one time in twelve days and you shut it out."

"You could enjoy the weather for us both. I'm the only one stuck in here."

Bella knew that. However, she would have the sun as often as she wanted back in Phoenix. The view that would only last a short while sat before her, looking exceedingly handsome in a light blue button-down.

"Why would you close them?"

"People expect a certain atmosphere when they come in here to shop."

"Dark and dank?"

"It is called The Lair."

Bella could not keep the judgmental tone out of her voice. "It is?"

Edward burst out laughing, leaning over his knees for support. Bella's heart literally swelled at the sound. Then, swelled again as she realized her heart had never swelled before.

"You didn't see the sign?"

"No," Bella blushed. "I have to spend so much time looking at my feet, I never remember to look up. If I did, I don't think I would have come in."

This caused another roll of laughter. Another swell of the heart.

"No offense," Bella added, quietly. A band-aid slapped on a gaping wound.

"None taken. I didn't pick it—I don't own this place."

Bella blinked, taken aback. For some absurd reason, Bella assumed he did.

"You thought I did?" he asked, accurately reading her face yet again.

Bella sucked her cheek, embarrassed by her answer. Perhaps it was the air with which he held himself. His confident demeanor. His old-world sort of charm. She studied him, past the absurdly handsome features that caused her to blush and look away. He was quite young. At first, she assumed his early twenties. Still young to be a shop owner, but he could have inherited it. Now that she really looked at him, he appeared closer to her age.

"How old are you? Eighteen?"

"Nineteen," he corrected. "As of last week. And you?"

"Eighteen." In September, she added in her head. "So, you must be starting college soon."

He nodded. "Joining my brother and sister at Dartmouth in the fall."

An Ivy League boy. Bella wasn't surprised.

She hadn't applied anywhere. She knew she was bound for community college. Renee put some money towards a college fund, but Bella knew it wouldn't get her far. She ignored the pang of jealousy and offered her congratulations.

Which, of course, he saw right through. "Is there something wrong?"

Bella covered her entire face with her hands. "Other than the fact that my face is easier to read than a picture book? No, not really. Just the barest hint of jealousy."

"I like your face. It's nice to know what someone is thinking without having to read their mind."

"That would be the dream," she sighed, wistfully. "To never have to guess what someone thinks of you."

"It would be a nightmare."

Bella scoffed, taking in his long, lean frame and sharp features. "You think people's perceptions of you would be that bad?" He was gorgeous and gregarious. Who would think poorly of him?

"I think your mind would become so infested with other peoples' perceptions of you, you would start to lose who you really were."

A shadow crossed over his face.

"That's why love is so important," Bella whispered, "So there's always someone there to remind you of who you are."

He fell into a trance, his eyes fixated on her. For an undeterminable amount of time, her world was aglow in honeyed gold. She didn't need the sunshine under his gaze. He blinked, breaking the spell, and fell back in his chair.

A cheeky grin spread across his lovely face. "You're never going to forgive me for what I said about Cathy and Heathcliff, are you?"

"Never," she vowed.