DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of course

Twilight, Chapter 12: "Occasionally he would ask a random question that he hadn't gotten to in the past two days of interrogation."

Seriously, there is no way on earth that he could think I was that interesting. We'd been sitting in his stupid shiny Volvo for a couple hours, and I'd done almost all the talking, which isn't like me at all. This is ridiculous. I slouched in my seat, which perfectly and annoyingly molded itself to me, and crossed my arms over my chest.

His eyes gleamed brilliantly. I quickly uncrossed my arms, and a glimmer of a smile drifted across his lips.

"Tell me about your bedroom."

My eyebrow rose, of its own volition.

"Your old room in Phoenix. Describe it. Was it very brown?" he laughed, his voice like tinkling glass.

"The furniture was, but more of a light brown. Like birch, I guess. Renee had chosen the colors when we moved down there, so the bedspread and curtains were a pastel shade of pink." I'm sure he could hear how disgusted I was by her color choice, just from the tone of my voice.

"And pink is not a color you like, I take it?"

"Nope. Once I hit third grade, I kept begging her to change it, but she said that we didn't have much money and we should be satisfied with what we had. This made sense to me. I'd seen the commercials of starving kids in Ethiopia. So I went into the laundry room one day after school, took the black dye she used to keep her black clothes black, and washed my bedsheets and curtains in it. I used the whole bottle, I remember…"

"You mean to tell me that you ran the washing machine without falling in? At the age of what, eight? I find that hard to believe." When he laughed, his sweet breath blew across the inside of the windshield, and made me lose the thread for a moment.

"Umm, it was a front-loading machine. And I was nine. Anyway, I was already pretty much running the household at that point. I was cooking, cleaning…" I trailed off, distracted by the fragrance wafting my way.

"Scrubbing the floors?" Surprisingly, his voice grounded me, brought me back to earth. I could see the corner of his perfect mouth lifting in a smile.

"Yep, a regular Cinderella. That's me."

"So, what brown furniture? Walk me through the room."

"Okay, well, it was pretty small. When I walked in the door, to my right was a bookshelf. It was never full until I was in high school. Again, money was an issue, so I was a regular at the local library. Against the next wall was my bed, a twin bed."

"With black sheets."

"Well, more grey than anything," I admitted. Edward's answering whoop of laughter was maddening. Why was he putting me through the third degree?

"And…" he prompted.

"Stop interrupting me, and you just might learn something," I snapped, but with a smile, so he'd know that I wasn't too serious. "Okay, next to the bed was a nightstand, which was usually covered in books and crossword puzzles and stuff."

"Diary?" He leaned closer, obviously interested.

"Like I'd want a record of all the stupid things I've done?" This was true. I'd tried keeping a diary and after two weeks had given up on it. Who wants to re-read their stupidities after the fact?

"Next to the nightstand was a yucca tree. It was in the corner by the window, so it would get plenty of light. It's the one plant I managed to keep alive, so mom still has it in the house. I hope she hasn't killed it by now."

"So it appears that neither you nor Renee has a green thumb, as it were."

"Obviously." When would this interrogation end?

"What else was there?" he prodded.

"A writing desk. For homework. The chair was wooden and extremely uncomfortable. I did all my work on my bed. Yes, my grey bed," I said, cutting him off before he could get the sentence out.


"Pale grey. I liked it. Hid the dirt well, didn't need to be cleaned so often."

"Color of walls?"

"A creamy white."

"What was on the walls? Pictures of unicorns?" That smirk was infuriating.

I rolled my eyes. "Please. Give me some credit. Some bands and movies I liked at that time."

"Such as?"

"They changed, depending on taste, popularity... A constant was U2, for example." I picked a popular band, hoping he wasn't about to start asking about other, more embarrassing, choices.

Thankfully, he dropped that subject, and I expelled a long breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.

At that, he turned to gaze at me fully, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply. Was he? Yeah, he was. I smiled inwardly.

"Bella, why are you acting like this is a police interrogation?"

"Because Charlie's my dad. If anyone can smell an interrogation a mile away, it's a cop's daughter," I harrumphed as I opened the car door.

He jumped out, and before I could blink he was holding the door fully open for me. "Then let's not give him a reason to interrogate you. I'll see you in the morning."

He touched my face gently, and flashed that radiant smile at me, and my knees nearly gave way. I had to hold myself carefully as I walked to the front door, aware that he was watching my every step. I gave into the temptation to add a little sway to my walk.

Bad idea. I stumbled, and heard his peal of laughter as he walked back to his car.

A/N: I'm thinking of making a series of fluffy one-shots about Edward's incessant questioning of Bella. Let me know what you think. And maybe which ones you'd like to read…