A/N: Thank you guys for giving my little story such an awesome reception so far! I truly enjoy reading your all's thoughts/opinions!

We've had nothing but rainy weather the past couple of days, which has certainly helped to put me in a writing kind of mood. So, chapter 7 is out sooner than anticipated!

Please enjoy!

P.S. I should also mention that I picture Diana Silvers to portray my version of Bella. If you prefer Kristen Stewart, that's totally fine! To each their own :)

Fat Patty's is pretty crowded. When we walk in, I notice a bunch of the guys I play against at the park sitting in the big corner booth. While Edward and Alex go to talk to the hostess, I stroll over to my friends. "Thanks for the invite, jerks," I tease.

Several guys choke on the food in their mouths when they peer up at me. I don't know what that's about until Mike laughs and comments, "What's with the makeover, Swan?"

I look around at the group of stunned guys and remember I'm wearing the clothes that Alex picked out. I groan and make Mike shove over for me. "Don't start," I grit out through clenched teeth, as I steal a few of his fries from the green plastic basket. Since everyone is still staring at me, I add, "I, uh, lost a bet."

Yeah, I know, I'm a liar. But it's just easier than explaining the truth.

"Where were you this morning?" Mike asks. "Kowalski was saying you're afraid to play against him now since you know he's going to take you down for breaking his nose."

I snort. "He can try. I'm not afraid of that dickhead. I was just busy."

"Busy?" one of the other guys—Tyler Crowley—in the booth asks and several of them snickers.

I follow their gazes and find Edward standing behind me. "Out table's ready, Bella," he says, without taking his eyes off of Mike, who is sitting next to me.

"Really busy," someone else teases, igniting more laughter.

"Shut it, pervs," I snap. Then, with a sigh, I steal a few more of Mike's fries for good measure. "Tell Kowalski I'll be there Monday morning, in case he wants to get his ass handed to him again."

When I stand up, I hear someone say, "I didn't know Swan liked 'em pretty." Then someone else mutters, "I didn't know Swan liked 'em at all."

I whirl around, ready to knock someone out, but Edward grabs me firmly around my waist. "Whoa there, tiger," he says, laughing as he drags me to our table.

Somehow, though I fully intend on sitting next to Alex, Edward ushers me into the booth across from her and sits down next to me before I can protest. Alex smiles at me really big from across the table. Smugly. I'm about to kick her when Edward distracts me with a question. "So, that guy you were just sitting by... He was the same one you were joking with at the party last night, right?"

"And?"

"You two seem really...chummy."

I know what he's getting at, and even though that definitely is not the case with Mike and me, I don't see the harm in letting Edward believe it is. "Maybe we are."

"What guy?" Alex asks, startled.

"He means Mike."

"Mike Newton?"

I nod, and Alex snorts derisively. "Yeah, right. Bella, don't tease poor Edward like that."

Poor Edward. Right.

"Mike Newton," Alex begins to explain, "is one of the most popular guys in Bella's class. He could get any junior girl he wanted."

Alex says all of this as if it should be a comfort to Edward, and really, she's right—Mike and I are friends, but he'll never ask me to prom, if you know what I mean—but Edward doesn't seem very thrilled with the idea of me being "chummy" with such a sought-after guy.

It gets quiet for a minute, and we all sigh with relief at the sight of our server. "What can I get you guys?" the lady asks.

Edward gestures to me, so I say, "I'd like a chocolate and peanut butter shake, please."

The woman nods, and then moves to Edward. "How about an Oreo cookie shake?" he says. Then he looks at me thoughtfully and adds, "We'd better get a basket of fries, as well."

"And for you?" the server asks my sister.

"Oh, nothing for me. Thanks."

"You sure?" Edward asks while I inquire, "Nothing? You were the one who insisted we come here."

"I'm sure," Alex says. "I'll be fine with my water."

Something is up with my sister. She doesn't exactly pack away the ice cream the way I do, but I've never seen her sit down at a restaurant and not, at the very least, order a Diet Coke.

A few minutes later, I figure our what she's up to when I see Rachel and Brooke walk into the restaurant. Alex looks up just as her friends spot us. She tries to look surprised, but she's not that good of an actress. "Oh, hey! What're you guys doing here?" she asks innocently when Rachel and Brooke slide into the booth beside her.

"Yes," Edward says, that cool control back in his voice. "To what do we owe the pleasure, girls?"

Rachel and Brooke doesn't answer Edward's question. Instead, they start cooing at Edward and I as if we're a couple of puppies in a pet shop window. "Alex was right! You guys are just the cutest!" Brooke whines, puckering out her lower glossy lip in an exaggerated way.

"Totally adorbs!" Rachel agrees. "I'm so glad you that you're together now. Y'know, Edward, Bella has never had a boyfriend before, so you'd better take good care of her."

I don't have time to correct Rachel of my relationship status, because Edward, of all people, says, "Oh, we're not together." But, then he has to go and ruin it by throwing his arm around my shoulders, adding, "Don't worry your pretty heads about it, though. I have special plans for our little Bella here."

"Special plans?" I mutter incredulously. "Could you be any creepier?"

Edward ignores me. "I promise you," he says to my sister and her friends as he pulls me flush against him, "I'll take extra care with her."

The estrogen brigade all sighs and starts scrambling to their feet. "Well, we'll leave you to it, then," Rachel says. "Have fun, you guys!"

"Alex!" I hiss when my sister stands up. I knew she'd ditch me! "Where d'you think you're going?"

"You guys don't really need me to come today," she says with a big, innocent smile. "Do you, Edward?"

Edward gives my sister his first sincere grin of the day. "It'll be difficult, but I'm sure we'll manage without you."

"You told Mom you were coming with me!" I insist, starting to actually panic. "You promised!"

Alex smiles down at me very condescendingly. "Trust me, Bella, this is for your own good."

"But I wore your stupid shirt!"

"Totally cute, by the way," Brooke said off-handedly. "You should wear pink more often."

I glare at my sister. "I hate you!"

"You won't later," Alex says, which causes Edward to laugh. My sister winks at him and then runs off with her friends, leaving me alone trapped in a booth with my psycho neighbor, who still has his arm around me.

"Well," Edward says after my sister is long gone and our shakes are in front of us. "This is a pleasant turn of events. You know? Your sister's not as bad as I used to think."

"Yeah, she's worse. Stupid traitor."

"Bella, quit being ridiculous. She did what she did because she cares about you."

"Right," I sneer.

Edward's entire demeanor is completely different now. He's much happier and way too comfortable. "Alex just sees what you can't, for some reason," he muses.

"And what's that?"

The corner of Edward's mouth pulls up in a crooked smirk, angling his body toward mine in the booth. "That it's only a matter of time before I get what I want."

He looks as if he's the one caught in a spell this time. His gaze is so intense that I shrink back as far as the booth will allow me. It isn't far enough. He cups my jaw in his fingers, brushing the pad of his thumb across my lips.

"Get your hands off me." I'm surprised when I actually sound dangerous, because that warm, tingly feeling I get whenever Edward touches me is trying to convince me I don't really want him to stop.

Edward sets back with a sigh and pushes my shake a little closer to me. "You should drink that. It'll make you feel better."

"Actually, going home would make me feel better."

"Won't you at least try to have a nice time today?"

"If you would at least try to act like a normal person, I might."

Something flashes in Edward's eyes. "And what's normal?" he snaps. "Breaking people's noses and having to be forced to wear clothes that actually fit? You're not exactly one to talk, you know."

I'm so taken aback by his outburst that the only thing I can think to do is take a sip of my milkshake. A really long sip.

I know Edward is watching me. After what he said, I can't help feeling completely self-conscious. I shrink back, wrapping my arms around myself, my temper completely depleting. Stupid Alex and her stupid shirt.

"You look very nice today," Edward offers suddenly. I glare at him, hating that he can read me so easily. His face fills with regret. "I'm sorry—I lose my temper sometimes."

I don't say anything, even though I probably should apologize to him, too.

"Let's not fight," Edward says, attempting to make amends again.

"Whatever," I grumble, and then do the only thing there is left to do—I reach for the basket of fries sitting between us and shove a really long one into my shake. After cramming the fry in my mouth, I notice that Edward is watching me with that amused sparkle back in his eyes.

Once I get to the car dealership, I start to relax. I'm buying my first car, after all. Even with Edward around, I'm kind of excited. Plus, it's easier to deal with him when I'm not trapped with him in a small booth.

"So," Edward says as we wander over to the used half of the lot. "Did you have anything specific in mind?" Edward raises his eyebrows and opens the driver's side door to an F-150. "You strike me as the truck type."

I try not to smile at that and climb behind the wheel. Edward joins me in the cab and watches me as I attempt to get a feel for the truck. "You know what's good about a truck," he says eventually.

"Plenty of room to haul all your gear when you go camping?"

"I suppose that's true, though I wouldn't really know. I've never been camping."

"Never?" I ask.

"Nope." Edward slides across the cab toward me. "I have, however, been to the drive-in." He slips his arm around my shoulders with a grin. "Bench seats are nice, don't you think?"

I swallow hard and hop out of the car so fast that Edward falls over. "No trucks, then?" he calls as I slam the door in his face.

I'm already looking in the windows of a Focus when Edward catches up to me. I take specific note of the bucket seats up front and then climb behind the wheel. Edward settles himself into the passenger seat.

"This would get much better gas mileage," I say.

"It's kind of small, though." Edward shifts about uncomfortably, and then scoots his chair back.

I glance around the car and try to picture The J's all cramming into the tiny car. "True," I agree. "Let's go try that one over there."

Edward follows me dutifully to a Fusion and doesn't say anything as I get comfy behind the wheel except "much better."

"Definitely," I agree, glancing over my shoulder. "And way more room in the backseat."

Edward turns to look at me with his eyebrows cocked way up. "Bella," he says, laughing. "You just freaked out over the idea of a bench. I don't think you have to worry about needing a spacious backseat."

When I catch his meaning, I blush. Why are all guys such horn dogs? "I didn't mean I plan on making out back there! I was simply thinking of The J's. They fully expect me to drive their sorry butts to school in the fall."

"Yeah, and they fully expect you to get busy in the backseat with them, too."

"Shut up. They do not!"

"Oh, yes, they do. They're guys. And you're not. It's that simple."

"They're my best friends. We've grown up in the same neighborhood together our whole lives. I guarantee none of them are interested in me."

"Not that they'd tell you. They're probably afraid of getting their butts handed to them in a spoon. But that doesn't mean they aren't thinking about it. At least one of them is. My money's on Jake."

"What makes you say that? You've never even met the guy."

"Yeah, but who else would spend so much time playing something as lame as Skateboard Pro 2000? I hate to break it to you, but the guy's not obsessed with beating your score. He's hoping you'll get bored and jump his bones."

"First of all, gross. And second of all, Skateboard Pro 2000 is not lame."

"I'm afraid it is, Bella. In fact,"—Edward shrugs apologetically—"your entire video game collection pretty much sucks. Grand Theft Auto, MX vs. ATV, Madden Football? Where's the action? The suspense? The danger?"

"I play Halo," I say defensively.

"Halo?" Edward laughs. "Give me a break!"

"What's wrong with Halo?"

"It's boring. You just run around and shoot at anything that moves. Your sister could probably beat that game."

"Oh, yeah, and what's your favorite video game?"

"Assassin's Creed."

"Assassin's Creed," I repeat dryly. Of course it is. I shouldn't have asked. "Excuse me if I find murdering people disturbing."

"It's not about killing people; it's about the challenge. You can't just go in and blow off everyone's heads. You get points for stealth and creativity. Blowing up a bunch of aliens is whatever, but pulling off the perfect murder? That's an accomplishment."

"No. It's creepy, is what it is."

"It's not that creepy," Edward argues. "Otherwise, why are there so many crime novels and cop shows out there? People are fascinated with murder."

This conversation has taken a turn for the weird really fast, but it's more of a conversation than Edward and I have ever had. Well, a conversation that isn't about him trying to seduce me, anyway. That's why I encourage him to keep talking. "People aren't fascinated with murder," I comment, knowing he'll argue.

"Sure, they are. Take those two girls your parents were talking about at dinner, for example. The media is fixed on them right now. This city is just waiting for another girl to end up dead because there's nothing like a good serial killer to liven up the conversation around the water cooler."

He has to bring that up. Suddenly, Heather Monroe's face is flashing through my brain and I shudder violently. "It's not a serial killer," I insist. "And, come to think of it, I'm really more of an SUV type of girl."

Edward scrambles to catch up to me after I jump out of the car. I hurry off so fast I'm not even sure what kind of car I'm climbing into next.

"You don't think those two deaths were related?" Edward asks me.

"The cops already said they weren't."

"Then they're lying."

"What makes you so sure?" I don't think I want to know Edward's answer, but at the same time I do. I have to know if there is really a serial killer out there snatching girls who look exactly like me.

"It's the number of stab wounds," Edward says, matter-of-factly. "Both girls were stabbed nearly thirty times."

I suddenly feel sick. "Could be a coincidence."

Edward shakes his head. "For most people who commit crimes like that, it's about the pleasure they get while the victim is still alive. The murder is just a means of cleaning up. But for serial killers, it's about the killing. No way two different guys would attack two different girls who happen to look so much alike and stab them so excessively. If they had been regular murders, the attackers would have wanted to kill the girls as quickly as possible. Even if the guys had no idea how to properly use a knife, there are way too many vulnerable places on the human body to miss them all. Five or six stab wounds, and chances are the girls would be dead. Why would two different guys continue to chop up someone who's already dead?"

I'm ready for this conversation to be over, but I can't get a word in. Something takes over Edward. I've never seen him so animated.

"Not only are the two killings definitely related," he continues, "but it's a game for this guy. The second girl was stabbed seven times more than the first. My guess is he was trying to keep her alive as long as possible. See if he could outdo his last death. You watch. I'll bet you that there is another murder tonight, and the number of stab wounds will be close to or higher than the last."

I gaped at Edward, but he just keeps going.

"I'd also bet the killer is annoyed that the two killings haven't been connected. He's got to be proud of his work—that many stab wounds is really quite impressive. I bet this time he'll leave some kind of message or calling card so that they have to rule it a serial killing."

Edward is so caught up in his theory that he hasn't noticed just how excited he's become, or how absolutely crazy he sounds. He also doesn't seem to realize that I haven't said a word for minutes and am on the verge of throwing up.

He's startled back to reality when I fling the car door open. I hear him call my name, but I don't answer. I slam the door shut and head quickly for the office.

"Bella, what's wrong? Where are you going?" Edward asks when he catches up to me.

When I don't answer him, he grabs my wrist and spins me toward him. "What's the matter with you?"

"Let go of me!" I demand.

"Not until you tell me what your problem is."

"You!" I shout. "You're crazy! Sick!"

I can see the anger flash through Edwards's eyes the same way it did back in the restaurant, but he lets go of my arm.

"There is something seriously wrong with you," I say. "I'm going home."

I get about two steps before Edward grabs my wrist again. "Bella, wait."

He sounds more hurt than angry now, but I don't care. "Let go of me right now, or I'll start screaming. My mom knows the manager of this place. He'll have you arrested quicker than you can say psychopath!"

Edward lets go without another word. I don't look back, but I can feel him watching me as I storm into the car dealership.