If you recognize it, then I probably don't own it

Preface

I felt like I was trapped in one of those terrifying nightmares, the one where you have to run, run until your lungs burst, but you can't make your body move fast enough. My legs seemed to move slower and slower as I fought my way through the callus crowd, but the hands on the huge clock tower didn't slow. With relentless, uncaring force, they returned inexorably toward the end—the end of everything.

But this wasn't a dream, this was nightmare. In my nightmare I wasn't racing to save my own life, I was racing to find someone.

Alice had said there was a good chance we would both die here. So that was a promising outcome. Hopefully the outcome would be different if she weren't trapped by the brilliant sunlight; only I was free to run across this bright, crowded square.

And I couldn't run fast enough.

So it didn't matter to me that we were surrounded by out extraordinarily dangerous enemies. As the clock began to toll out the hour, vibrating under the soles of my fucking slow feet, I knew I was too late—and there was something bloodthirsty was waiting in the fucking wings. If I failed at this; well I've lived a long-ish life.

The clock tolled again, and the sun beat down from the exact center point of the sky.

Chapter one: Party

I was ninety-nine point nine percent sure I was dreaming.

The reasons I was so certain were that, first, I was standing in a bright shaft of sunlight—the kind of blinding clear sun that never shone on my drizzly new hometown in Forks, Washington—and second, I was looking at my Grandmother Miriam. Grandma had been dead since before I was born, and I only knew what she looked like because of pictures, so there was solid evidence towards a dream.

Grammy hadn't changed much; I assumed. I'd never actually met her. Her face looked the same as it did in the pictures. Her skin was soft and weathered looking, bent into a thousand tiny creases that clung gently to the bone underneath. Like a dried apricot, but with a puff of thick white hair standing out in a cloud around it.

Our mouths—hers a wizened pucker—spread into the same surprised half-smile at just the same time. Apparently, she hadn't been expecting me, either.

I was about to ask her a question; I had so many—the first of which was 'What are you doing in my dream?' What had she been up to in the past seventeen years? Was Poppa okay, and had they found each other, wherever they were?—but she opened her mouth when I did, so I stopped to let her go first. She paused, too, and then we both smiled at the little awkwardness.

"Miri?"

It wasn't Grammy that called my name, and we both turned to see the addition to our small reunion. I didn't have to look anywhere to know who it was; this voice I would know anywhere—know, and be super annoyed that he was invading my personal space—like my dreams.

Edward.

Even though I was annoyed to see him—that fuck promised he stay away when I was asleep, we weren't joined at the hip—it was fucking crazy to see him walking in the sunlight.

I almost panicked because Grammy didn't know that I was dating a vampire—nobody knew, well except his family—so how was I supposed to explain the fact that the brilliant sunbeams were shattering off his skin making it angry, red, and bubbly.

Well, Grammy, you see you and my boyfriend have something cool in common. You've both been dead since before I was born. He's a vampire, he burns in the sun I know it's weird right, where's the fire. No but it's like a sun burn that becomes like a fire damage burn. Don't worry about it…

What was he doing? The whole reason he lived in Forks, the rainiest place in the immediate area, was so that he could be outside in the daytime without exposing his family's secret. Yet, here he was, strolling gracefully toward—with the most pleasant smile on his face—as if I were the only one here.

In the second, I wished that I was not the one exception to his mysterious talent; I usually felt grateful that I was the only person whose thoughts he couldn't hear just as clearly as me, too, so that he could hear me tell him to get the fuck out of here.

I looked at Grammy, and saw that I was too late. She was turning to stare back at me, her eyes as alarmed as mine.

Edward—still smiling pleasantly—put his arm around my shoulder and turned to face my grandmother.

Grammy's expression surprised me. Instead of looking horrified, she was staring at me sheepishly, as if waiting for a scolding. And she was standing in such a strange way—one arm held awkwardly away from her body, stretched out and then curled around the air. Like she had her arm around someone I couldn't see, someone invisible…

Only then, as I looked at the bigger picture, did I notice the huge gilt frame that enclosed my grandmother's form. I couldn't comprehend that when I raised my hand that wasn't wrapped around Edward around Edward's waist and reached out to touch her. She mimicked the movement exactly, mirrored it. But where our fingers should have met, there was nothing but cold glass…

With a jolt, I realized my dream was a nightmare.

There was no Grammy.

That was me. Me in a mirror. Me—old as balls, creased, and withered.

Edward stood beside me, casting no reflection, excruciatingly lovely and forever seventeen.

He pressed his perfect lips against my wrinkled cheek.

"Happy birthday," I whispered.

…

I woke up with a start—my eyes pooping open wide—and gasped. Dull gray light, the familiar light of an overcast morning, took the place of the blinding sun in my dream.

Just a dream, I told myself. It was only a dream. I took a deep breath, and then jumped again when my alarm went off. The little calendar in the corner of the clock's display informed me that today was September thirteenth.

Only a dream, but a prophetic in one way, at least. Today was Edward's birthday. He was officially eighteen years old, at least to everyone else.

I'd been looking forward to this day for months.

All through the perfect summer—arguably one of the best summers in the history of entire world, and the rainiest summer in the recorded history of the Olympic Peninsula since 1912—this date had lurked in the ambush, waiting to spring.

And now that it had hit, I was going to do everything I could to make it awesome, and embarrassing—for him. I could feel it. He was officially, according to his most recent identity, eighteen.

Let the best birthday begin.

…

When I went to brush my teeth and put in my contacts, I scared myself because I wasn't cool and old and wrinkly. I stared at myself, looking for a sign of any creases along my milk-white skin. The only creases I had were on my forehead, and I knew if I could manage to stop making angry scrunched up faces that they would disappear. But my angry scrunched up angry face was patented, by me, and also I did it automatically and I couldn't stop it. I did my makeup, carefully, making sure it was perfect for today. I lined my whiskey-brown eyes, carefully, making sure it looked extra good for this special occasion.

I dry swallowed my birth control, in a hurry to get out of my house as quickly as possible. I wasn't entirely able to avoid my dad and Prissy, she'd moved in the middle of July, so I had to stay at the top of the stairs while they went down the stairs holding hands.

…

I struggled to get a grip on myself as I drove to school. First there was the weird vision of old me, I couldn't get it out of my head—I looked damn good at the unspecific age of old. I felt giddy as I pulled into the parking lot and into my unassigned assigned spot behind Forks High School. I spotted Edward leaning motionlessly against his polished silver Volvo, like a statue. Today, different from every other day, his Volvo had been graffiti'd with a bunch of 'Happy Birthday's' in chalkboard pens. And he was there waiting for me, just the same as every other day.

Even with dating him for half a year, I still couldn't believe that I was actually dating him. Probably because he could get super Emo at times, and it was super annoying; and also because I had smelly, smelly blood.

His sister Alice was standing by his side, waiting for me, too.

Of course Edward and Alice weren't related (in Forks the story was that all the Cullen siblings were adopted by Dr. Carlisle Cullen and his wife, Esme, both plainly too young to have teenage children), but their skin color was precisely the same shade, their eyes had the same strange golden tint. Her face, like his, was also beautiful. To someone in the know—like me—these similarities marked them for what they were.

The sight of Alice waiting there—her tawny eyes brilliant with excitement, and a small silver-wrapped square in her hands—made me frown. I'd told Alice that the present ambush was to be at his locker not in the parking lot. Obviously my wishes were being ignored.

I slammed the door of my '53 Chevy truck—a shower of rest specks fluttered down to the wet blacktop—and walked slowly toward where they waited. Alice skipped forward to me, her pixie face glowing under her spiky black hair.

"Happy birthday, Edward!" She said when I was close enough.

"Shh!" I hissed, glancing around the lot make sure no one had heard her. The last thing I wanted was the surprise was ruined.

She ignored me, "Do you think he'll want to open his present now or later?" She asked eagerly as we made our way to where Edward still waited.

"No presents yet." I reminded in a mumble.

She finally seemed to process my plan. "Okay…later, then. Do you think he'd want a scrapbook made? Carlisle got him a camera."

I grinned. Of course she would know what birthday presents everyone got him. Edward wasn't the only member of his family with unusal skills. Alice would have 'seen' what her parents were planning as soon as they'd decided that themselves.

"No, but I think we should do it anyway."

"I think it's a nice idea. You're only a senior once. Might as well document it." She giggled.

"How many times have you been a senior?"

She grinned and shook her head.

We'd reached Edward then, and he held out his hand for mine. I took it eagerly, forgetting for a moment that he was going to be so embarrassed. He skin was always smooth and never clammy. He gave my fingers a gentle squeeze. I looked into his topaz eyes, and smiled. He smiled again.

He lifted his free hand and traced one cool fingertip around the outside of my lips as he spoke, "So, as discussed, you are not allowed to wish me a happy birthday, is that correct?"

"Yes, that's correct." I gave him a small smile. "But I'm still gonna do it anyway!"

"Just checking." He ran his hand through his tousled bronze hair.

"You know some people actually enjoy their birthdays."

Alice laughed, and the sound was all silver, a wind chime. "Of course you'll enjoy it. Everyone is supposed to be nice to you today and give you your way, Edward. What's the worst that could happened?" She meant it as rhetorical question.

"Getting older," He answered anyway.

My smile turned into a hard line.

"Eighteen isn't very old." Alice said, innocently.

"It's not that much older than me." I acknowledged.

He sighed.

"Technically," She said, keeping her tone light. "Just by one year though."

I frowned, what the fuck were they getting at? Edward and I were both dead set against me being changed, but Alice saw it in the future.

An impasse, he called it.

I couldn't really see Alice's point, to be honest. What was so great about immortality? Being a human didn't suck that bad—I mean not the way the rich people lived, anyway.

"What time will you be at the house?" Alice continued, changing the subject. From her expression, she was up exactly the kind of thing Edward was hoping to avoid.

"I didn't know you had plans to be there." Edward said.

"Oh, be fair, Edward!" She complained. "You aren't going to ruin all our fun like that, are you?"

"I thought my birthday was about what I want."

"I'll get her from Charlie's right after school," Alice told him, ignoring me altogether.

"Doesn't she have to work?" Edward protested.

"I don't actually," I told him, smugly. "I already took the day off. Mrs. Newton said to tell you 'Happy Birthday.'"

"S-She still can't come over," He stammered, scrambling for an excuse. "I, well, I haven't watched Romeo and Juliet yet for English."

Alice snorted. "You have Romeo and Juliet memorized."

"But Mr. Berty said we needed to see it performed to fully appreciate it—that's how Shakespeare intended it to be presented."

I rolled my eyes.

"You've already seen the movie," Alice accused.

"But not the nineteen-sixty version—with fake Zac Efron— Mr. Berty said it was the best."

Finally, Alice glared at Edward. I dropped my smug smile. "This can be easy, or this can be hard, Edward, but on way or another—"

I interrupted her threat. "Relax, Alice. If Edward wants to watch a movie, then he can. It's his birthday."

"So there." He added.

"I'll come over around seven," I continued. "That will give you more time to set up."

Alice's laughter chimed again. "Sounds good. See you tonight, Miri! It'll be fun, you'll see." She grinned at Edward—the wide smile exposed all her perfect, glistening teeth—then pecked her brother on the cheek and danced off to her first class before he could respond.

"Miri, please—" He started to beg, but I pressed my lips to his before he could finish.

"Let's discuss it later. We're going to be late for class."

…

No one bothered to stare at us as we took our usual seats in the back of the classroom (oddly, we had almost every class together now—it was amazing the favors Edward could get the female administrators to do for him). Edward and I had been together long enough now to be an object of gossip anymore. Even Mike Newton didn't bother to give me the glum stare that used to make me feel really guilty. He smiled now instead, and I was glad he seemed to have accepted that we could only be friends. Mike had changed over the summer—his face had lost some of the roundness, making his cheekbones more prominent, and he was wearing his pale blond hair a new way; instead of bristly, it was longer and gelled into a carefully casual disarray. It was easy to see where his inspiration came from—but Edward's look wasn't something that could be achieved through imitation.

…

As the day progressed, I considered ways Edward might try to get out of whatever was going down at the Cullen house tonight. It would be bad enough to have Emo-Sexy Eddie back, but if Emo Eddie was a constant downer during the day, he was sure to erupt in Emo-Loser-Eddie during presents.

I don't think he actually liked attention, by vampirism nature. No one wants a spotlight on them when they feel odd.

And he'd very pointedly asked—well, ordered really—that no one give him any presents this year. It looked like his parents and I weren't the only ones who'd decided to overlook that.

I'd never had much money, and that never bothered me. My mom, Renée, had raised me on a nail tech and starving artist salary. My dad, Charlie, wasn't getting rich at his job, either—he was the police chief here in the tiny town of Forks. My only personal income came from the three days a week I worked at the local sporting goods store. Most of the money I made went to a college fund.

Edward had a lot of money—I didn't even want to think about how much. Money meant next to nothing to Edward or the rest of the Cullen's. It was just something that accumulated when you had unlimited time on your hands and a sister who had the uncanny ability to predict trends in the stock market. Edward didn't seem to understand why I would object when he'd spend money on me—why it made me uncomfortable if he took me to an expensive restaurant in Seattle, he wasn't allowed to buy me a car that could reach speeds over sixty miles an hour, or why I wouldn't let him pay my college tuition. Edward that I was being unnecessarily difficult.

But how could I let him give me things when I couldn't do much to reciprocate with. If he bought me a car the only thing that would mean about the same, was to fuck him. And if I did that I would be a prostitute. Which would make me a lot of money, but there weren't a lot of rich people in Forks. I

…

As the day went on, neither Alice nor I brought up Edward's birthday again, and I knew he was beginning to relax.

We sat at our usual table for lunch.

A strange kind of truce existed at the table. The three of us—Edward, Alice, and I—sat on the extreme southern end of the table. Now that the "older" and somewhat scarier (in Emmett's case, certainly) Cullen siblings had graduated, Alice and Edward did not seem quite so intimidating, and we did not sit here alone. My other friends, Mike and Jessica (who were in an awkward post-breakup friendship phase, which pissed me off to no end because I was the one who set them up), Angela and Ben (whose relationship had survived the summer), Eric, Conner, Tyler, and Lauren (though she didn't really count in the friend category) all the sat at the same table, on the other side of an invisible line. That line dissolved on sunny days when Edward and Alice always skipped school, and the conversation would swell out effortlessly to include me.

Edward and Alice didn't find this minor ostracism odd or hurtful the way I would have. They barely noticed it. People always felt strangely ill at ease with the Cullens, almost afraid for some reason they couldn't explain to themselves. I was a rare exception to that rule. Sometimes it bothered Edward how comfortable I was being so close to him. He thought he was hazardous to my health—an opinion I rejected.

…

The afternoon passed quickly. School ended, and Edward walked me to my truck as he usually did. But this time, he held the passenger door open for me. Alice must have been taking his car home so that I could keep him from making a run for it.

…

He folded his arms and made no move to get out of the rain "It's my birthday, don't I get to drive?"

"I'm pretending it's not your birthday, just as you wished." I reminded him.

"If it's not my birthday, then you don't have to come my house tonight…"

"All right!" I shut the passenger door and walked past his to open the driver's side, "Happy birthday."

"Shh," He shushed me halfheartedly. I climbed in the opened door.

I played with the radio as Edward drove, he shook his head in disapproval.

"Your radio has horrible reception."

I frowned I didn't like it when he picked on my truck. It was a good truck—it had personality.

"If you want a nice radio, drive your own damn car." I was nervous about Alice's plan's, on top of mine, so my words came out sharper than I meant. I was hardly ever bad-tempered with Edward, and my tone made him press his lips together to keep him from smiling.

…

When he parked in front of my house, he reached over to take my face in his hands. He handled me very carefully, pressing just the tips of his fingers softly against my temples, my cheekbones, and my jawline. Like I was especially breakable. Which was exactly the case—compared with him, at least.

"You should be in a good mood, today of all days," I whispered.

"And if I don't want to be in a good mood?" His uneven breath fanned across my face.

"Too fucking bad."

I leaned in closer and pressed my lips to his. As I intended. I could feel him forget his worries, and concentrate on kissing me.

His mouth lingered on mine, cold and smooth and gentle, until I wrapped my arms around his neck, and our lips parted. I could feel his lips curve upward as he let go of me and reached back to unlock me from him.

Edward had drawn many careful lines for our physical relationship, with the intent being to keep me alive. Though I respected the need for maintaining a safe distance between my skin and his razor-sharp teeth. We both tended to forget that last part though, especially when we boned.

"Be good, please." He breathed against my cheek. He pressed his lips gently to mine one more time and the pulled away, "We don't have anything in your car or room."

My heart thundered in my ears. "We're not going to bone in a car." I said.

"Stranger things have happened." He said, a bit smug.

I rolled my eyes, "Let's go watch the Capulets and Montagues hack each other up, all right, just like you wanted."

"Your wish, is my command."

…

Edward sprawled across the couch while I started the movie, fast-forwarding though the opening credits.

When I perched on the edge of the sofa in front of him, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me against his chest; our cuddling position. It wasn't exactly as comfortable as a sofa cushion would be, with his chest being hard, and perfect, but it was definitely preferable. He pulled the old afghan off the back of the couch and draped it over our legs.

"You know, I've never had much patience with Romeo," He commented wrapping his arms around me.

"What's wrong with Romeo?" I asked.

"Well, first of all, he's in love with this Rosaline—don't you think it makes him seem a little fickle? And then, a few minutes after their wedding, he kills Juliet's cousin. That's not very smart. Mistake after mistake. Could he have destroyed his own happiness any more thoroughly?"

I sighed, "Do you want to watch his alone?"

"No, I want to watch this with you." His fingers traced patterns across the skin of my arm, raising goose bumps. "Are you gonna cry?"

"Probably not," I admitted. "But then again, I'm not paying attention."

"I won't distract you then." But I felt his lips on the back of my neck, and it was very distracting.

As the movie progressed Edward began whispering Romeo's lines in my ear—his irresistible, velvet voice made fake Zac Efron voice sound weak and coarse by comparison. I didn't cry even when Juliet woke up to her husband dead.

"I'll admit, I do sort of envy him here," Edward said tickling me with a lock of my hair.

"Thanks, I'm sorry I'm so ugly, and she's so pretty."

He made a disgusted sound, "I don't envy him and the girl—just the ease of suicide," He clarified in a teasing tone. "You humans have it so easy! All you have to do is throw down one tiny vial of plant extracts…"

"What?" I gasped.

"It's something I had to think about once, and I knew from Carlisle's experience that I wouldn't be simple. I'm not even sure how many ways Carlisle tried to off himself in the beginning…after he realized what he'd become…" His voice, which had grown serious, turned light again. "And he's clearly still in excellent health."

I twisted around so that I could read his face. "What are you talking about?" I demanded, "What do you mean, this is something you had to think about once? Is being in a relationship with me that shit?"

"Last spring, when you were…nearly killed…" He paused to take a deep breath, struggling to return to his teasing tone. "Of course I was trying to focus on finding you alive, but part of my mind was making contingency plans. Like I said, it's not as easy for me as it is for a human."

For a second, the memory of my penultimate trip to Ivywood washed through my head. I could see it all so clearly—the blinding sun, the heat waves comping off the concrete as I ran with desperate haste to find the sadistic vampire who wanted to torture me to death. James, waiting in the mirrored room with my mother as his hostage—or so I'd thought. I hadn't known it was all a ruse. Just as James hadn't known that I'd planned my own rescue; Edward made it in time, but it had been a close one. Unthinkingly, my hand reached across my chest to the scar on my shoulder blade.

I shook my head—as if I could shake away the bed memories—and tried to grasp what Edward meant. "Contingency plans?" I repeated. I moved my hand away from the scar.

"Well, I wasn't going to live without you." He rolled his eyes as if that fact were childishly obvious. "But I wasn't sure how to do it—I knew Emmett and Jasper would never help… so I was thinking maybe I would go to Italy and do something to provoke the Volturi."

I didn't want to believe he was serious, but his golden eyes were brooding, focused on something far away in the distance as he contemplated ways to end his own life. I was furious.

"What is a Volturi?" I demanded.

"The Volturi are a family," He explained, his eyes still remote. "A very old, very powerful family of our kind. They are the closest thing our world has to a royal family, I suppose. Carlisle lived with them briefly in his early years, in Italy, before he settled in America—do you remember the story?"

"Of course I remember."

I would never forget the first time I'd gone to his home, the huge white mansion buried deep in the forest beside the river, or the room where Carlisle—Edward's father in so many real ways—kept a wall of paintings that illustrated his personal history. The most vivid, mist wildly colorful canvas there, the largest, was from Carlisle's time in Italy. Of course I remembered the calm quartet of men, each with the exquisite face of a seraph, painted into the highest balcony overlooking the swirling mayhem of color. Though the painting was centuries old, Carlisle—the blond angel—remained unchanged. And I remembered the three others, Carlisle's early acquaintances. Edward had never used the name Volturi for the trio, two black-haired, and one snow-white. He'd called them Aro, Caius, and Marcus, nighttime patrons of the arts…

"Anyway, you don't irritate the Volturi," Edward went on, interrupting my reverie. "Not unless you want to die—or whatever is we do." His voice was so calm, it made him sound almost bored by the prospect.

My anger turned to dismay. I took his face in my hands.

"You idiot. You must never kill yourself because of me. It's selfish, and stupid, and I'll hate you forever."

"I'll never put you in danger again, so it's a moot point."

"Put me in danger! I thought we'd established that all that bullshit was bad luck?" The idea of Edward, killing himself for me, even if I was already dead, pissed me off.

"What would you do, if the situation were reversed?" He asked.

"Uh, well, for starters I wouldn't kill myself."

He didn't seem to understand what I was saying. He chuckled.

"What If something'd happened to you?" I asked, "Would you want me to go and off myself?"

A trace of pain touched his perfect features.

"I guess I see your point…a little," He admitted. "But what would I do without you?"

"First you would mourn, then you would go back to whatever you were doing before I came along and complicated your existence."

He sighed. "You make that sound so easy."

"It should be. I'm not really that interesting."

He was about to argue, but then he let it go. "Moot point," He reminded me. Abruptly he pulled himself up into a more formal posture, shifting me to the side so that we were no longer touching.

"My dad?" I guessed.

Edward smiled. After a moment, I heard the sound of the police cruiser pulling into the driveway. I reached out and took his hand firmly my dad could deal with that much.

He came in with a pizza box in his hands.

"Hey, kids." He grinned at me. "I thought you'd two like a break from cooking and washing dishes for your birthday, hungry?"

"Yes, sir." Edward said.

…

"Dad, I'm stealing Edward for the evening." I told him when we finished eating.

I looked at my dad hopefully. Maybe he had some concept of birthdays as stay-at-home, family affairs—this was Edward's first birthday with me, so he didn't know what to expect.

"That's fine—the Mariners are playing the Sox tonight," My dad explained, and my hope disappeared. "So I won't be any kind of company… Here. Your mom will want pictures of you two." He passed me my phone, and tossed it to me.

He ought to have known better than that—I'd always been coordination-challenged, especially when I wasn't paying attention. The phone flew towards me, as I attempted to grab it, it bounced off my wrist, and tumbled toward the floor. Edward snagged it before it could crash onto the linoleum.

"Nice save," My dad noted to Edward, then to me he said, "You know you're mom's going to want pictures of you—both you. Peach, seriously take pictures. Your mom emailed, she's been missing you since she had the baby. You know how she gets—she'll want pictures of you faster than you can take them."

I frowned, I couldn't believe he brought up my half-sister, Grace. Ever since my mom gave birth she'd been hounding me and Edward to send her pictures of ourselves so we could show my half-sister, and of course my mom.

"Good idea, Charlie." Edward said, handing me my phone.

I turned the phone and snapped a picture, "Smile, Birthday Boy."

My dad grinned. Hey, say hi to Alice for me. She hasn't been over in a while." My dad's mouth pulled down at one corner.

"It's been three days, Dad." I reminded him. My dad was a fan of Alice. He'd become a fan of her when she'd helped me through my awkward recovery, and summer school. My dad would be forever grateful to her for saving her from the horror of an almost-adult daughter who needed help getting in and out of the bath, especially when Prissy was working. And as far as summer school, she was the one who helped me, mostly, get A's in most of my classes so I didn't have to retake them all. I only ended up taking two classes over during the summer. "I'll tell her."

"Okay, you kids have fun tonight." It was clearly a dismissal. My dad was already edging toward the living room and the TV.

I smiled, triumphant, and took Edward's hand to pull me from the kitchen.

…

When we got to the truck, he opened the passenger door for me again, and this time I didn't argue. I still had a hard time finding the obscure turnoff to his house in the dark.

Edward drove north through Forks, visibly chafing at the speed limit enforced by my prehistoric Chevy. The engine groaned even louder than usual as he pushed it over fifty.

"Take it easy." I warned him.

"You know what you would love? A nice little Audi coupe. Very quiet, lots of power."

"That's it, I'm not sleeping with you for a year." I turned my head defiantly.

"What? Come on?" He nudged me lightly.

"There's nothing wrong with my truck. And speaking of expensive nonessentials, you know if you know what's good for you, you'd stop talking about it, otherwise no birthday present. And it's a good one."

"Okay, so it won't be a birthday present. How about a happy Wednesday one?" He chuckled.

"No, I don't like it when you spend a lot of money on me."

"Okay, I won't spend a dime on you."

"Good."

"Can you do me a favor?"

"That depends on what it is."

He sighed, I turned back to look at him, "Miri, the last real birthday any of us had was Emmett in 1935. Cut us a little slack, and don't be too difficult tonight. They're all very excited that we're actually celebrating this year."

It surprised me a little bit, when he brought up things like this. "Fine, I'll behave."

"I probably should warn you…"

"Please do."

"When I say they're all excited…I do mean all of them."

"Everyone?" I asked. "I thought Emmett and Rosalie were in Africa." The rest of Forks was under the impression that the older Cullens had gone off to Dartmouth, but I knew better.

"They wanted to be there, it's not every year I turn eighteen."

"You remember Rosalie hates me right?"

"She doesn't hate you, Peach. She just doesn't want to be alone with you. Don't worry, she'll be on her best behavior."

"Toe-mate-toe, toe-mah-toe." Unlike Alice, Edward's other "adopted" sister, the golden blonde and exquisite Rosalie, didn't like that much. As far as she was concerned, I assumed, I was just this smelly, smelly human who took her brother's virginity. I actually don't know if she knew that last part.

I felt guilty about the present situation, guessing that Rosalie and Emmett's prolonged absence was my fault, because I smelled so good, and she hated me because she couldn't be around me without wanting to eat me. I know because Edward told me in confidence.

Edward decided to change the subject, "So, if you won't let me buy you an Audi for my birthday, is there anything I can get you."

"It's your birthday! It should be about you! Not me. So what do you want?"

"I asked." A deep frown carved creases into his marble forehead. Obviously he wished he'd stuck to the subject of Rosalie.

It felt like we'd had this argument a lot today.

"No tonight, Peach."

"Well, then you're going to have a damn good birthday if it kills you."

Edward growled—a deep, menacing sound. "This isn't what I want for my birthday."

"I know." I rolled my eyes, "You want fuck in the car. Or in the meadow again. You just don't want to have this conversation."

I could swear I heard his teeth clench together.

…

We were pulling up to his house now. Bright light shinned from every window on the first two floors. A long line of glowing Japanese-style lanterns hung from the porch eaves, reflecting a soft radiance on the huge cedars that surrounded the house. Big bowls of flowers—pink roses—lined the wide stairs up to the front doors.

I shot Edward a sneaky smiled.

He took a couple deep breaths to calm himself. "This is a party," He reminded me, and himself. "Try to be good."

"Sure, sure. Flower." I muttered.

He came around to get my door, and offered me his hand.

"I have a question."

He waited warily.

"Why do you show up in pictures?"

He started laughing, and pulled me out of his car and lifted me over his shoulders and twirled me. "You come up with the strangest questions!"

"Put me down and talk!" I laughed.

He placed me down gently. "Back when photos were developed carefully in a dark room, and cameras had silver in them, we didn't show up in photos." He broke off into a wide grin, "Now everything is digital."

He took my hand, and led me up the stairs laughing slightly as he opened the door for me.

…

They were all waiting for us in the huge white living room; when we walked through the door we were greeted with a loud chorus of "Happy Birthday , Edward!" while I took a party kazoo from Alice and joined the noise. He smiled and looked down. Alice, I think, conned everyone into decorating every flat surface with candles and dozens of crystal bowls willed with roses. There was a table with a white cloth draped over it next to Edward's grand piano, holding a white birthday cake, more roses, a stack of glass plates, and a small pile of silver-wrapped presents. It made my goofy birthday clown wrapped gift look childish.

It was a hundred times better than Alice and I had planned.

Edward, seeing my delight, wrapped an arm around my waist and kissed the top of my forehead.

His parents, Carlisle and Esme—impossibly youthful and lovely as ever—were the closest to the door. Esme hugged me carefully, her soft, caramel-colored hair brushing against my cheek as she kissed my forehead, and then Carlisle put his arm around my shoulders.

"Thanks for planning all of this, Miri." He staged-whispered. "We were so happy to have you here help celebrate."

Rosalie and Emmett stood behind them. Rosalie didn't smile, but she didn't glare. Emmett's face was stretched into a huge grin. It had been months since I'd seen them; the last I had really seen Emmett was when a few months ago when Edward and I were getting hot and heavy in his room and Emmett threw a box of condoms at us. Rosalie looked beautiful, and Emmett was still the size of a fucking car.

"You haven't changed at all," Emmett said with mock disappointment. "I expected a perceptible difference, but here you are, same dorky kid."

"Thanks a lot, Emmett." Edward laughed.

He laughed, "I have step out of a second—" he paused to wink conspiratorially at Alice—"Don't try anything funny while I'm going."

"Miri said she'd walk into a wall once you left." Edward told his brother.

Alice let go of Jasper's hand and skipped forward, all her teeth sparkling in the bright light. Jasper smiled, too, but kept his distance. He leaned, long and blond, against the post at the foot of the stairs. During the days where we'd been holed up together in my mother's husband's apartment I'd thought he'd have gotten over his aversion towards me. But he'd gone back to exactly how he'd acted before—avoiding me as much as possible—the moment he was free from that temporary obligation to protect me; or whatever. I wasn't sensitive about it. Probably because he was newest to the Cullen fake-ass vegetarian diet, and had a little more trouble sticking to it. And my smelly, smelly blood was just to fucking irresistible. Apparently.

"Time to open present!" Alice declared. She put her hand on my elbow and led Edward and me to the table with the cake and shiny packages.

Edward wore his emo-martyr face. "Alice, I know I told you I didn't want anything—"

"But I didn't listen, and Miri didn't either!" She interrupted smugly. "Open them!" She handed him a box and took an old Polaroid camera quickly snapped a picture of him. "By the way we're making a scrapbook."

The tag on the box said it was from Emmett, Rosalie, and Jasper. I watched as Edward carefully removed the wrapping paper from the box, being extra special careful not to rip it. Jesus, he was a fucking-save-the-wrapping-paper-guy.

"You're supposed to tear through the paper, Edward." Esme laughed.

"I'm saving it for the scrapbook!" Edward said indignantly.

After what felt like hour but was probably like fourteen seconds, he got the paper off the box entirely. It was definitely something electrical, with lots of numbers in the name. I watched him open the box, looking for the illumination. But the box was empty.

"You guys know I have a radio in my car, right?"

Rosalie cracked a smile, Jasper laughed. "It's a stereo for her truck." She explained. "Emmett's installing it right out."

"What?" I frowned, "You got him a stereo for my car? It's his birthday."

"He's being super bitchy about your lack of a decent music system in your truck. We couldn't take it anymore. And since you won't trade up, we've taken it into our own hands."

Edward laughed.

"Thanks? For getting Edward a birthday present for me, I think?"

"You're welcome." Emmett called from outside. I heard his booming laugh from my truck, and I couldn't help but laugh too.

"Open mine, Carlisle, and Esme's next!" Alice said, so excited that some dogs started barking; not really. But she was really fucking loud.

Edward turned to give me quizzical look, then took his present.

Emmett bounded through the door. "Just in time!" He crowed. He pushed in behind Jasper, who had also had drifted closer than usual to get a good look.

He opened this present carefully. And his face opened in surprise. "A gift card to the music store!" He said exuberantly.

Alice smiled brightly, "I knew you'd like it!"

"Next is my present." I said. Alice handed Edward the birthday clown wrapped present.

"Nice paper." Emmett laughed.

"Thanks man, I got it from your mom."

"That's cold, Miri."

Edward opened my present, careful of the wrapping paper.

"You made me a mixtape?" He asked incredulously, holding the CD case for everyone to see. "High Enough – Damn Yankees, I Want to Hold Your Hand – Beatles, I Want You to Want Me – Cheap Trick, Dream a Little Dream of Me – Cass Elliot, At Last – Etta James, Somewhere Out There—Linda Ronstadt, Have I Told You Lately – Rod Stewart, Straight Up – Paula Abdul." He read, "Miri, you know I don't like Paula Abdul, she's not a strong singer."

"You love her, you listen her music all the time." I corrected. His special ringtone on my phone was Straight Up.

"She doesn't even dance with the animated cat in the official video, you've been watching the wrong one the entire time." He reminded me.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"It's so sweet of you to make him a mixtape!" Alice cooed.

"I know, I'm adorable."

…

We sat down at the table as we got ready for cake and coffee. Coincidently I was sitting across from Alice and Jasper right next to Edward and the cake. Carlisle cut the cake in small, even slices.

"I didn't know you were a fan of pink roses." I remarked to Edward as Carlisle deposited cake on everyone's plate.

"When I was first turned Carlisle had a small house with a lot of pink roses in it, it was the first nice thing I saw when I woke up as a vampire."

Carlisle placed cake on Edward's and my plates. Then set the cake cutter down, and took his own seat.

"Let's all raise a glass. To Edward." Carlisle held up his mug, and the rest of us followed in suit.

I set my arm down and jerked it up again. "Ow fuck." There was a nice cut from radius to my ulna. Blood dribbled out from the cut, and before I knew it Alice had jumped over the table bringing plates, mugs, cutlery, and tablecloth with her as she crashed into my sending both of us on the ground, with her on top of me.

"Don't move," Alice whispered.

I listened as Jasper slammed into Edward, it sounded like crashing boulders in a rock slide.

There was another noise, a grisly snarling that seemed to be coming from deep in Jasper's chest. Jasper shoved past Edward, snapping his teeth.

I heard Emmett grab Jasper from behind in the next second, locking him into his massive steel grip, but I heard Jasper struggle. I turned my head to look at Jasper as he struggled, his wild, empty eyes focused on me.

Though I was covered in coffee, cake, and shards of ceramic I could feel the eyes of six blood thirsty vampires on me.

…

So I'm late. No ragrets. I'm actually working a lot more hours and taking more shifts bc why tf not. I went on vacation last week and saw a meteor shower which was cool but would have been cooler if I hadn't been stuck in a four and half stand still bc a logging truck flipped over, and it was a two lane road. And no one died so it was inconvenient as hell. That makes me sound like emo-eddie but I need y'all to know that it was 10 pm and hot as hell, and I had a quarter tank of gas left. i guess you have to be there to understand. Please enjoy.