“Miss Swan, would you please check in room 357, please? My son is in there, and I really have nothing else for you to do.”

“Sure, Dr. Cullen,” I replied reluctantly. What was the point in any of this anyway? Moving to Washington with my father had been a bad idea. Attending the University of Washington was a bad idea. Volunteering for the C.O.E. program at UW was definitely a bad idea.

At first, when my mother got remarried, I was okay with it. Not pissed, but I could deal. Then she told me they were moving. I attended a university in Phoenix. That way, I could live with my mother and still go to college. There was no reason for me to stay in Phoenix now. I had no home, and I definitely wasn’t going to Florida. Moving in with my dad surely was just going to last until I finished school. Well, that’s what I told myself, and it was true, but I didn’t know how much longer I could stand Washington. The cold, the wet, the boring little town. Is anything exciting ever going to happen? I thought as I walked towards the elevator.

C.O.E. was a volunteer class for students at the university. They said it was volunteer work, but the “volunteers” actually did get paid. I started working at the Newton’s camping store, but I still had a lot of boring time on my hands, so I joined the stupid “volunteer” group and got stuck working in the hospital. Throwing me into the hospital part of C.O.E. had been their bad idea, seeing as the first time I saw blood, I threw up so much that I wound up in a hospital bed myself. But refusing to help Dr. Cullen was hard. I was named his errand-runner because he barely ever needed help, and he was nice enough to only have me check on the minor injury patients. Dr. Cullen was an extremely nice man, but he was so busy, and I felt useless. And he was good-looking. He reminded me of Zeus or some kind of Greek god.

Wait, I thought, the great Zeus has a son?…In the hospital? He never mentioned a son before. But, then again, it wasn't like we were close confidants. I walked into Room 357, expecting to see maybe stitches or something along those lines. The sound of heavy breathing caught my ears. He was sleeping. I couldn’t see his face--it was turned away from me. He appeared to have a broken arm. Thankfully, it was already patched up, probably done by the great Zeus himself.

I reached for his clipboard hanging on the side of the bed. Cullen, Edward was written at the top in bold. What an old-fashioned name. But, then again, Carlisle wasn’t very modern, either. Yep, broken arm. I wasn’t really supposed to look at the patients’ reason for being hospitalized, but sometimes, I just got curious. I saw movement out of the corner of my eye before I could investigate further.

I looked up and locked gazes with the most beautiful man I had ever seen. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even look away. Finally, I dropped the clipboard and looked at my feet, blushing furiously.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. He didn’t say anything. He must have thought I was some sort of idiot ogling him the way I had. I sure felt like one in these stupid blue scrubs.

Gathering up all my courage, I looked back at him. He was still looking at me with a strange expression. He was pale, just like the rest of the hospital patients here, but his skin was beautiful. He had the weirdest shade hair color. It was a bronze color with shades of red, like the color of an old, gold coin. It was thick and went every which way possible. I studied the rest of his face. He resembled Michelangelo’s Adonis sculpture, only he wasn’t naked, something I was both happy and mad about. Happy, because I knew I would definitely be unable to look away, and mad because I really wanted to see if he had muscles as beautiful as his face.

Green eyes.

Green eyes? Who had green eyes these days? Well, one thing was for sure: If Carlisle was Zeus, then the gorgeous man in front of me was definitely Hercules.

Crap! Was I ever going to look away and form a coherent thought? Hmpf. Probably not. Mustering all of my strength, I started with my usual routine.

“Do you need anything? A glass of water…ice cream maybe?” I asked, fighting to remember why I was there in the first place.

He said nothing.

Nothing.

Was there something entirely wrong with him? Something I'dmissed? Deaf mute? I started counting, and if he didn’t answer in 30 seconds, I decided I would fetch Dr. Cullen. Thankfully, when I got to ten, he responded.

“A name would be nice,” he said. What did that mean?

“Um…your name is Edward Cullen…you’re in a hospital in--”

“No, silly! I know my name. I wanted yours,” he responded. His voice was like velvet, and his eyes burned with some sort of intensity.

My name? Why did he want my name? Oh no.

“Please don’t tell Dr. Cullen I was peeking at your clipboard! I’m really sorry for invading your privacy! I can’t lose this job because I signed up for it, and I’ll look bad if--” I started babbling, but he cut me off again.

“Miss, as if I would tell anyone. You just offered me ice cream, after all. I’ll more than likely be out of here by tomorrow anyway, just so you know,” he said. I finally figured out his expression. He looked…sad.

Oh. I am an idiot.

“So…do you want anything?” I asked awkwardly.

“Well, ice cream sounds nice, but you don’t have to--”

I was out of the door before he finished. I was glad to be away, despite the pull I felt towards him. It was like my mind and body were fighting. I decided I would run to the cafeteria, get a bowl of ice cream and run back. That way, both body and mind won. I would be gone long enough to gain composure and short enough to see him again quickly. Like I said, idiot.

Wait. What kind of ice cream did he want? Add moron to the list--I hadn't even thought to ask him. Everyone liked vanilla, right? Before I could think anymore, my hands were pushing the vanilla button on the ice cream machine, knowing the faster I pushed the button, the sooner I would be near him again.

I practically ran back, but none of my fellow classmates were there to stare at me, thank goodness. When I reached his room, however, I saw why no one was wandering the halls. Several girls were trying to peek through the window of Edward’s door. I felt a deep stab of hurt. That was when it all rushed over me. I barely knew this man, and I was attracted to him. I wanted to know more about him…I wanted to know him. What was behind those sad but beautiful green eyes?

People like the beautiful Edward Cullen and people like me just didn’t mix. The rejection that rushed over me made me actually want to cry. I was just a boring girl. Nothing beautiful. Nothing interesting. And he was. I made a decision. I would never see him again after this. He was leaving the hospital anyway. I didn’t want to be pulled into those beautiful eyes again because he would reject me, and hearing it from someone was so much worse than just assuming it.

I fought through the horde of giggling girls and went in. Dr. Cullen was there, talking to Edward. I set the ice cream on the bedside table and started to leave.

“Hey wait!” Edward called. I turned around, blushing. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“Um, I have other paperwork to run off,” I lied. I allowed myself one peek at him and quickly averted my eyes.

“Oh,” he said. He looked at his father. I noticed they looked nothing alike. Definitely not like father and son. Dr. Cullen walked toward the door, and I followed.

“Call Esme, Edward. She’s worried sick,” he said before departing. I reopened the door to let myself out, when he spoke again.

“Miss, can you do me one more favor?”

Anything. Everything. No. Yes. No.

“What?” I said, aggravated with myself. His perfect eyebrows scrunched up so cutely when he was taken aback from my tone.

“I want…no, I need your name,” he said softly. Was he trying to give me a heart attack? My heart was going to explode from beating so fast. Or was he making fun of me? He could always get my name from his father, for sure.

“Why?” I snapped, concluding that he was trying to toy with me. Again, he looked sad. But for all I knew, he was just acting.

“I want a name to match the face. So that when I see you again, I can call you by your name and not by ‘miss’,” he declared.

“And what makes you think we’ll see each other again?” I retorted.

He ignored my sassiness this time. “I guess you could call it fate…or maybe destiny, whichever you prefer.” He grinned, not quite showing his teeth. I was mesmerized.

“Bella,” I said simply. “My name is Bella, short for Isabella.”

“Bella,” he repeated thoughtfully. I turned to leave again. I heard him mutter the word beautiful.

“Bella,” he said again, but calling me this time. I faced him again. “We will meet again. I promise.”