Jess drove faster than the Chief, so we made it to Port Angeles by four. It had been a

while since I'd had a girls' night out, and the estrogen rush was invigorating. We listened

to whiny rock songs while Jessica jabbered on about the boys we hung out with. Jessica's

dinner with Mike had gone very well, and she was hoping that by Saturday night they

would have progressed to the first-kiss stage. I smiled to myself, pleased. Angela was

passively happy to be going to the dance, but not really interested in Eric. Jess tried to get

her to confess who her type was, but I interrupted with a question about dresses after a

bit, to spare her. Angela threw a grateful glance my way.

Port Angeles was a beautiful little tourist trap, much more polished and quaint than

Forks. But Jessica and Angela knew it well, so they didn't plan to waste time on the

picturesque boardwalk by the bay. Jess drove straight to the one big department store in

town, which was a few streets in from the bay area's visitor-friendly face.

The dance was billed as semiformal, and we weren't exactly sure what that meant. Both

Jessica and Angela seemed surprised and almost disbelieving when I told them I'd never

been to a dance in Phoenix.

"Didn't you ever go with a boyfriend or something?" Jess asked dubiously as we

walked through the front doors of the store.

"Really," I tried to convince her, not wanting to confess my dancing problems. "I've

never had a boyfriend or anything close. I didn't go out much."

"Why not?" Jessica demanded.

"No one asked me," I answered honestly.

She looked skeptical. "People ask you out here," she reminded me, "and you tell them

no." We were in the juniors' section now, scanning the racks for dress-up clothes.

"Well, except for Tyler," Angela amended quietly.

"Excuse me?" I gasped. "What did you say?"

"Tyler told everyone he's taking you to prom," Jessica informed me with suspicious

eyes.

"He said what ?" I sounded like I was choking.

"I told you it wasn't true," Angela murmured to Jessica.

I was silent, still lost in shock that was quickly turning to irritation. But we had found

the dress racks, and now we had work to do.

"That's why Lauren doesn't like you," Jessica giggled while we pawed through the

clothes.

I ground my teeth. "Do you think that if I ran him over with my truck he would stop

feeling guilty about the accident? That he might give up on making amends and call it

even?"

"Maybe," Jess snickered. '"If that’s why he's doing this."

The dress selection wasn't large, but both of them found a few things to try on. I sat on

a low chair just inside the dressing room, by the three-way mirror, trying to control my

fuming.

Jess was torn between two — one a long, strapless, basic black number, the other a

knee-length electric blue with spaghetti straps. I encouraged her to go with the blue; why

not play up the eyes? Angela chose a pale pink dress that draped around her tall frame

nicely and brought out honey tints in her light brown hair. I complimented them both

generously and helped by returning the rejects to their racks. The whole process was

much shorter and easier than similar trips I'd taken with Ren�e at home. I guess there was

something to be said for limited choices.

We headed over to shoes and accessories. While they tried things on I merely watched

and critiqued, not in the mood to shop for myself, though I did need new shoes. The

girls'-night high was wearing off in the wake of my annoyance at Tyler, leaving room for

the gloom to move back in.

"Angela?" I began, hesitant, while she was trying on a pair of pinkstrappy heels — she

was overjoyed to have a date tall enough that she could wear high heels at all.

Jessica had drifted to the jewelry counter and we were alone.

"Yes?" She held her leg out, twisting her ankle to get a better view of the shoe.

I chickened out. "I like those."

"I think I'll get them — though they'll never match anything but the one dress," she

mused.

"Oh, go ahead — they're on sale," I encouraged. She smiled, putting the lid back on a

box that contained more practical-looking off-white shoes.

I tried again. "Um, Angela…" She looked up curiously.

"Is it normal for the…Cullens" — I kept my eyes on the shoes — "to be out of school a

lot?" I failed miserably in my attempt to sound nonchalant.

"Yes, when the weather is good they go backpacking all the time — even the doctor.

They're all real outdoorsy," she told me quietly, examining her shoes, too. She didn't ask

one question, let alone the hundreds that Jessica would have unleashed. I was beginning

to really like Angela.

"Oh." I let the subject drop as Jessica returned to show us the rhinestone jewelry she'd

found to match her silver shoes.

We planned to go to dinner at a little Italian restaurant on the boardwalk, but the dress

shopping hadn't taken as long as we'd expected. Jess and Angela were going to take their

clothes back to the car and then walk down to the bay. I told them I would meet them at

the restaurant in an hour — I wanted to look for a bookstore. They were both willing to

come with me, but I encouraged them to go have fun — they didn't know how

preoccupied I could get when surrounded by books; it was something I preferred to do

alone. They walked off to the car chattering happily, and I headed in the direction Jess

pointed out.

I had no trouble finding the bookstore, but it wasn't what I was looking for. The

windows were full of crystals, dream-catchers, and books about spiritual healing. I didn't

even go inside. Through the glass I could see a fifty-year-old woman with long, gray hair

worn straight down her back, clad in a dress right out of the sixties, smiling welcomingly

from behind the counter. I decided that was one conversation I could skip. There had to

be a normal bookstore in town.

I meandered through the streets, which were filling up with end-of-the-workday traffic,

and hoped I was headed toward downtown. I wasn't paying as much attention as I should

to where I was going; I was wrestling with despair. I was trying so hard not to think about

him, and what Angela had said… and more than anything trying to beat down my hopes

for Saturday, fearing a disappointment more painful than the rest, when I looked up to see

someone's silver Volvo parked along the street and it all came crashing down on me.

Stupid, unreliable vampire, I thought to myself.

I stomped along in a southerly direction, toward some glass-fronted shops that looked

promising. But when I got to them, they were just a repair shop and a vacant space. I still

had too much time to go looking for Jess and Angela yet, and I definitely needed to get

my mood in hand before I met back up with them. I ran my fingers through my hair a

couple of times and took some deep breaths before I continued around the corner.

I started to realize, as I crossed another road, that I was going the wrong direction. The

little foot traffic I had seen was going north, and it looked like the buildings here were

mostly warehouses. I decided to turn east at the next corner, and then loop around after a

few blocks and try my luck on a different street on my way back to the boardwalk.

A group of four men turned around the corner I was heading for, dressed too casually to

be heading home from the office, but they were too grimy to be tourists. As they

approached me, I realized they weren't too many years older than I was. They were

joking loudly among themselves, laughing raucously and punching each other's arms. I

scooted as far to the inside of the sidewalk as I could to give them room, walking swiftly,

looking past them to the corner.

"Hey, there!" one of them called as they passed, and he had to be talking to me since no

one else was around. I glanced up automatically. Two of them had paused, the other two

were slowing. The closest, a heavyset, dark-haired man in his early twenties, seemed to

be the one who had spoken. He was wearing a flannel shirt open over a dirty t-shirt, cutoff

jeans, and sandals. He took half a step toward me.

"Hello," I mumbled, a knee-jerk reaction. Then I quickly looked away and walked

faster toward the corner. I could hear them laughing at full volume behind me.

"Hey, wait!" one of them called after me again, but I kept my head down and rounded

the corner with a sigh of relief. I could still hear them chortling behind me.

I found myself on a sidewalk leading past the backs of several somber-colored

warehouses, each with large bay doors for unloading trucks, padlocked for the night. The

south side of the street had no sidewalk, only a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire

protecting some kind of engine parts storage yard. I'd wandered far past the part of Port

Angeles that I, as a guest, was intended to see. It was getting dark, I realized, the clouds

finally returning, piling up on the western horizon, creating an early sunset. The eastern

sky was still clear, but graying, shot through with streaks of pink and orange. I'd left my

jacket in the car, and a sudden shiver made me cross my arms tightly across my chest. A

single van passed me, and then the road was empty.

The sky suddenly darkened further, and, as I looked over my shoulder to glare at the

offending cloud, I realized with a shock that two men were walking quietly twenty feet

behind me.

They were from the same group I'd passed at the corner, though neither was the dark

one who'd spoken to me. I turned my head forward at once, quickening my pace. A chill

that had nothing to do with the weather made me shiver again. My purse was on a

shoulder strap and I had it slung across my body, the way you were supposed to wear it

so it wouldn't get snatched. I knew exactly where my pepper spray was — still in my

duffle bag under the bed, never unpacked. I didn't have much money with me, just a

twenty and some ones, and I thought about "accidentally" dropping my bag and walking

away. But a small, frightened voice in the back of my mind warned me that they might be

something worse than thieves.

I listened intently to their quiet footsteps, which were much too quiet when compared to

the boisterous noise they'd been making earlier, and it didn't sound like they were

speeding up, or getting any closer to me. Breathe, I had to remind myself. You don't know

they're following you. I continued to walk as quickly as I could without actually running,

focusing on the right-hand turn that was only a few yards away from me now. I could

hear them, staying as far back as they'd been before. A blue car turned onto the street

from the south and drove quickly past me. I thought of jumping out in front of it, but I

hesitated, inhibited, unsure that I was really being pursued, and then it was too late.

I reached the corner, but a swift glance revealed that it was only a blind drive to the

back of another building. I was half-turned in anticipation; I had to hurriedly correct and

dash across the narrow drive, back to the sidewalk. The street ended at the next corner,

where there was a stop sign. I concentrated on the faint footsteps behind me, deciding

whether or not to run. They sounded farther back, though, and I knew they could outrun

me in any case. I was sure to trip and go sprawling if I tried to go any faster. The footfalls

were definitely farther back. I risked a quick glance over my shoulder, and they were

maybe forty feet back now, I saw with relief. But they were both staring at me.

It seemed to take forever for me to get to the corner. I kept my pace steady, the men

behind me falling ever so slightly farther behind with every step. Maybe they realized

they had scared me and were sorry. I saw two cars going north pass the intersection I was

heading for, and I exhaled in relief. There would be more people around once I got off

this deserted street. I skipped around the corner with a grateful sigh.

And skidded to a stop.

The street was lined on both sides by blank, doorless, windowless walls. I could see in

the distance, two intersections down, streetlamps, cars, and more pedestrians, but they

were all too far away. Because lounging against the western building, midway down the

street, were the other two men from the group, both watching with excited smiles as I

froze dead on the sidewalk. I realized then that I wasn't being followed.

I was being herded.

I paused for only a second, but it felt like a very long time. I turned then and darted to

the other side of the road. I had a sinking feeling that it was a wasted attempt. The

footsteps behind me were louder now.

"There you are!" The booming voice of the stocky, dark-haired man shattered the

intense quiet and made me jump. In the gathering darkness, it seemed like he was looking

past me.

"Yeah," a voice called loudly from behind me, making me jump again as I tried to hurry

down the street. "We just took a little detour."

My steps had to slow now. I was closing the distance between myself and the lounging

pair too quickly. I had a good loud scream, and I sucked in air, preparing to use it, but my

throat was so dry I wasn't sure how much volume I could manage. With a quick

movement I slipped my purse over my head, gripping the strap with one hand, ready to

surrender it or use it as weapon as need demanded.

The thickset man shrugged away from the wall as I warily came to a stop, and walked

slowly into the street.

"Stay away from me," I warned in a voice that was supposed to sound strong and

fearless. But I was right about the dry throat — no volume.

"Don't be like that, sugar," he called, and the raucous laughter started again behind me.

I braced myself, feet apart, trying to remember through my panic what little selfdefense

I knew. Heel of the hand thrust upward, hopefully breaking the nose or shoving it

into the brain. Finger through the eye socket — try to hook around and pop the eye out.

And the standard knee to the groin, of course. That same pessimistic voice in my mind

spoke up then, reminding me that I probably wouldn't have a chance against one of them,

and there were four. Shut up! I commanded the voice before terror could incapacitate me.

I wasn't going out without taking someone with me. I tried to swallow so I could build up

a decent scream.

Headlights suddenly flew around the corner, the car almost hitting the stocky one,

forcing him to jump back toward the sidewalk. I dove into the road —this car was going

to stop, or have to hit me. But the silver car unexpectedly fishtailed around, skidding to a

stop with the passenger door open just a few feet from me.

"Get in," a furious voice commanded.

It was amazing how instantaneously the choking fear vanished, amazing how suddenly

the feeling of security washed over me — even before I was off the street — as soon as I

heard his voice. I jumped into the seat, slamming the door shut behind me.

It was dark in the car, no light had come on with the opening of the door, and I could

barely see his face in the glow from the dashboard. The tires squealed as he spun around

to face north, accelerating too quickly, swerving toward the stunned men on the street. I

caught a glimpse of them diving for the sidewalk as we straightened out and sped toward

the harbor.

"Put on your seat belt," he commanded, and I realized I was clutching the seat with both

hands. I quickly obeyed; the snap as the belt connected was loud in the darkness. He took

a sharp left, racing forward, blowing through several stop signs without a pause.

But I felt utterly safe and, for the moment, totally unconcerned about where we were

going. I stared at his face in profound relief, relief that went beyond my sudden

deliverance. I studied his flawless features in the limited light, waiting for my breath to

return to normal, until it occurred to me that his expression was murderously angry.

"Are you okay?" I asked, surprised at how hoarse my voice sounded.

"No," he said curtly, and his tone was livid.

I sat in silence, watching his face while his blazing eyes stared straight ahead, until the

car came to a sudden stop. I glanced around, but it was too dark to see anything beside

the vague outline of dark trees crowding the roadside. We weren't in town anymore.

"Bella?" he asked, his voice tight, controlled.

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

"Are you all right?" He still didn't look at me, but the fury was plain on his face.

"Yes," I croaked softly.

"Distract me, please," he ordered.

"I'm sorry, what?"

He exhaled sharply.

"Just prattle about something unimportant 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 something trivial. "I'm going to run over Tyler Crowley

tomorrow before school?"

He was still squeezing his eyes closed, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Why?"

"He's telling everyone that he's taking me to prom — either he's insane or he's still

trying to make up for almost killing me last… well, you remember it, and he think sprom

is somehow the correct way to do this. So I figure if I endanger his life, then we're even,

and he can't keep trying to make amends. I don't need enemies and maybe Lauren would

back off if he left me alone. I might have to total his Sentra, though. If he doesn't have a

ride he can't take anyone to prom…" I babbled on.

"I heard about that." He sounded a bit more composed.

"You did?" I asked in disbelief, my previous irritation flaring. "If he's paralyzed from

the neck down, he can't go to the prom, either," I muttered, refining my plan.

Edward sighed, and finally opened his eyes.

"Better?"

"Not really."

I waited, but he didn't speak again. He leaned his head back against the seat, staring at

the ceiling of the car. His face was rigid.

"What's wrong?" My voice came out in a whisper.

"Sometimes I have a problem with my temper, Bella." He was whispering, too, and as

he stared out the window, his eyes narrowed into slits. "But it wouldn't be helpful for me

to turn around and hunt down those…" He didn't finish his sentence, looking away,

struggling for a moment to control his anger again. "At least," he continued, "that's what

I'm trying to convince myself."

"Oh." The word seemed inadequate, but I couldn't think of a better response.

We sat in silence again. I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was past six-thirty.

"Jessica and Angela will be worried," I murmured. "I was supposed to meet them."

He started the engine without another word, turning around smoothly and speeding

back toward town. We were under the streetlights in no time at all, still going too fast,

weaving with ease through the cars slowly cruising the boardwalk. He parallel-parked

against the curb in a space I would have thought much too small for the Volvo, but he slid

in effortlessly in one try. I looked out the window to see the lights of La Bella Italia, and

Jess and Angela just leaving, pacing anxiously away from us.

"How did you know where… ?"I began, but then I just shook my head. I heard the door

open and turned to see him getting out.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm taking you to dinner." He smiled slightly, but his eyes were hard. He stepped out of

the car and slammed the door. I fumbled with my seat belt, and then hurried to get out of

the car as well. He was waiting for me on the sidewalk.

He spoke before I could. "Go stop Jessica and Angela before I have to track them down,

too. I don't think I could restrain myself if I ran into your other friends again."

I shivered at the threat in his voice.

"Jess! Angela!" I yelled after them, waving when they turned. They rushed back to me,

the pronounced relief on both their faces simultaneously changing to surprise as they saw

who I was standing next to. They hesitated a few feet from us.

"Where have you been?" Jessica's voice was suspicious.

"I got lost," I admitted sheepishly. "And then I ran into Edward." I gestured toward him.

"Would it be all right if I joined you?" he asked in his silken, irresistible voice. I could

see from their staggered expressions that he had never unleashed his talents on them

before.

"Er… sure," Jessica breathed.

"Um, actually, Bella, we already ate while we were waiting — sorry," Angela

confessed.

"That's fine — I'm not hungry." I shrugged.

"I think you should eat something." Edward's voice was low, but full of authority. He

looked up at Jessica and spoke slightly louder. "Do you mind if I drive Bella home

tonight? That way you won't have to wait while she eats."

"Uh, no problem, I guess…" She bit her lip, trying to figure out from my expression

whether that was what I wanted. I winked at her. I wanted nothing more than to be alone

with my perpetual savior. There were so many questions that I couldn't bombard him with

till we were by ourselves.

"Okay." Angela was quicker than Jessica. "See you tomorrow, Bella… Edward." She

grabbed Jessica's hand and pulled her toward the car, which I could see a little ways

away, parked across First Street. As they got in, Jess turned and waved, her face eager

with curiosity. I waved back, waiting for them to drive away before I turned to face him.

"Honestly, I'm not hungry," I insisted, looking up to scrutinize his face. His expression

was unreadable.

"Humor me."

He walked to the door of the restaurant and held it open with an obstinate expression.

Obviously, there would be no further discussion. I walked past him into the restaurant

with a resigned sigh.

The restaurant wasn't crowded — it was the off-season in Port Angeles. The host was

female, and I understood the look in her eyes as she assessed Edward. She welcomed him

a little more warmly than necessary. I was surprised by how much that bothered me. She

was several inches taller than I was, and unnaturally blond.

"A table for two?" His voice was alluring, whether he was aiming for that or not. I saw

her eyes flicker to me and then away, satisfied by my obvious ordinariness, and by the

cautious, no-contact space Edward kept between us. She led us to a table big enough for

four in the center of the most crowded area of the dining floor.

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

"Perhaps something more private?" 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.

"Um" — she shook her head, blinking — "your server will be right out." She walked

away unsteadily.

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

"Do what?"

"Dazzle them like that — she's probably hyperventilating in the kitchen right now."

He seemed confused.

"Oh, come on," I said dubiously. "You have to know the effect you have on people."

He tilted his head to one side, and his eyes were curious. "I dazzle people?"

"You haven't noticed? Do you think everybody gets their way so easily?"

He ignored my questions. "Do I dazzle you ?"

"Frequently," I admitted.

And then our server arrived, her face expectant. The hostess had definitely dished

behind the scenes, and this new girl didn't look disappointed. She flipped a strand of short

black hair behind one ear and smiled with unnecessary warmth.

"Hello. My name is Amber, and I'll be your server tonight. What can I get you to

drink?" I didn't miss that she was speaking only to him.

He looked at me.

"I'll have a Coke." It sounded like a question.

"Two Cokes," he said.

"I'll be right back with that," she assured him with another unnecessary smile. But he