Remember Me (A Twilight fan fiction)

11. Dinner

Edward had eyed the menu, scrutinizing the selections. He knew that he could not get away without ordering food, and chose an entree from the lighter choices. The less food he had to deal with, the better. "I'll have the chicken," he told her, "with a very small side of pasta, please."

"Soup or salad?" the waitress asked, not bothering to write it down on her notepad and twirling her red curly locks entirely too much.

"Neither," Edward replied, but then turned to Bella. "Unless you want it."

"I already have salad with mine," Bella told him, looking at him questioningly.

"Right," he said, and then turned back to the server. "Just the chicken and pasta is fine."

Taking a sip of her soda, Bella watched as the server backed away from their table, never removing her gaze from Edward and nearly crashed into a couple of oncoming patrons.

"So, you don't like salad?" Bella inquired.

"I'm not very hungry."

"Why not?"

"We're kind of on a special diet. And before I left, Esme had prepared this huge meal, and she went through so much trouble...."

Bella nodded understandingly. Edward had seemed just the type of person who did not want to let anyone down...especially his mother. "We didn't have to go out to eat. I could've eaten at home," she told him, although the idea of not going out with Edward might have nearly crushed her. Their date could have been postponed for dinner another night, and she could have fixed Charlie a decent meal. They certainly had enough groceries...

"No," he replied. "This is perfect. I've really been looking forward to this," he admitted with a smile.

The smile nearly took her breath away, and a blush flooded her cheeks. "Me too."

With a sigh, he inwardly celebrated that lovely burst of color that brightened her ivory skin. Since he could not read her mind, Edward was grateful to see that he still affected her. And the way she sat there with her hair cascading down her shoulders, her chocolate brown eyes fixed on his own, he wanted nothing more than to bare his soul right then and there.

"Thank you," she said.

"For what?" he asked, puzzled.

She smiled, embarrassed. "For what? For the groceries, for the flowers, for taking me out...."

Edward leaned forward on the table, setting his forearms on the burgundy linen cloth. Her gratitude was extremely unnecessary. He felt like the one who should be thanking her. Thank you, Isabella Swan, for being born. Thank you for being the light of my existence, thank you for completing me. "Thank you, Bella," he replied with a smile, "for granting me the pleasure of your company."

A giggle escaped her lips. "Do all the Cullens talk like you?" His way of speaking was definitely unique...like it was from another time...

"Not Emmett," he replied thoughtfully. He was feeling torn between trying to leave her clues without giving her too much information. There was so much he wanted to tell her... "So, have you had any more interesting dreams?" he probed. He could not help wondering if she had recalled their midnight conversation. Although, if she had, she might have said something by now.

"No," she replied. "Not like the vampire dream."

His heart sunk just a little. "Oh," he responded, trying to hide his disappointment.

The waitress returned and set down a plate of salad in front of Bella, still keeping her eyes on Edward. "Are you sure I can't get you some salad?"

"No, thank you," Edward replied, watching Bella as she moved the cuffs of her sleeves up to her elbows and poked hungrily into the lettuce and tomatoes with her fork. He was not looking forward to the meal that was coming.