chapter one
It's a nice night—breezy for late summer and the sky is clear—which is really saying something for Forks. I check my phone, mostly to see what time it is but it does not escape my notice that I have an unread message from Jacob.
7:17.
I am two minutes late.
I shove my phone in the pocket of my black pants and pick up my pace, regretting wearing my new flats as I feel them rub uncomfortably against my heels. I can see the theater building, Fuller Hall, and the substantial number of patrons milling around outside, waiting for doors to open.
It's the final night of Forks College's performance of Les Miserables, the summer theater series' musical. Forks is a small liberal arts school in Washington state known for its outstanding dramatic arts program.
My best friend, Alice Brandon, is a costume design major and had volunteered her summer to work on the show. Not only did she design and help create all of what the actors were wearing tonight, she is the Front of House Manager, which is really very important, I suppose, as she deals with making sure everyone has tickets and are seated and ready to go as she flickers the lights to let them know that there are five minutes until the curtains swoosh open.
It's the last night of summer before incoming freshmen arrive on campus and their orientation leaders, who had helped usher the other performances, are busy getting everything prepared, leaving Alice desperate for anyone she could rope into helping out.
Which is where I come in.
Because I have a summer job at the library on campus, I was around and I had no reason to say no.
I take the steps two at a time, nearly falling on my face on the last leap, and swing the door open. The lobby is full of elderly patrons, wandering around slowly and talking too loudly to one another—the senior citizen population of the town of Forks takes advantage of the program more than the students at the school do. I weave my way through clusters of people and make it to the doors of the theater itself. The lights are on but dim and the rows of chairs are empty, the deep red curtain closed. I look around and don't see anyone, but I hear Alice's high, musical voice from beyond the sound booth. I walk quickly to where a group is gathered, all dressed identically to me with the exception of me missing a black "Forks College Theater and Dance" polo shirt. I feel myself burning red in my tank top.
"Oh, Bella is here! Take a seat, I'm just giving everyone their jobs," Alice says cheerfully and I apologize for being late. She brushes it off, no big deal. I sit down, not looking at anyone in the group but I can feel someone staring at me. I do my best to ignore it while Alice reads off names and duties.
"Does anyone have any questions?" Her query is met with silence. "Okay, everyone go ahead and get to your places—I'm opening the doors in seven minutes." As everyone stands up, she pulls me aside.
"Come on, let's get you a polo," she says, leading me out to the lobby and then into a small room across from the box office. It's cramped and too bright, a copier taking up most of the space. There's a box in the corner overflowing with black fabric. Alice digs through it until she finds my size and tosses the shirt to me.
"You look nice, "I say. She beams and puts on her oh this old thing? routine. She really does look nice in her sheer, black shirt dress and wedges that make her almost as tall as my own five feet four inches. She has the dress belted, showing off her small waist and her short, dark hair is twisted in pieces and pinned to the top of her head—done well enough to look like it hadn't been done at all. Her small, angular features are dusted in a shimmery bronzer—she looks like a fairy and she jingles as moves, multiple gold bangles sliding up and down her arm.
I pull the polo shirt over my head and smooth my hair back, feeling very plain next to Alice with my mousy brown ponytail.
Alice adjusts my collar before exclaiming that I am perfect and pushing me out the door.
I am in charge of passing out programs as patrons filter into the theatre. It's a simple job. I can handle it.
I reach my side of the double doors, taking a stack of programs from Alice and waiting for her to open the doors. A few moments later, a boy in a shirt that matches my own stands at the door next to mine. He is much taller than I am—at least a foot taller than me. His hair is a reddish brown color, bronze if I'm feeling dramatic, and stands up at an angle that insists he runs his long fingers through it far too much. His green eyes are bored, hidden behind a pair of thick framed glasses, the left lens holding a deep scratch. His pants are too faded and his shoes, though black, are not dressy like my flats.
I feel my stomach flip once and the door next to me opens with a swoosh. The people milling around the lobby look up and then down at their tickets and begin shuffling towards us. The boy meets my eyes briefly and I give him a small smile, no teeth showing. He does not return the gesture, but he raises an eyebrow instead.
I turn my focus on the gray haired man walking towards me, his hand out expectantly. I hand him the program and he goes inside, showing one of the ushers his ticket. The better part of the next ten minutes follows this process until an older woman comes to the door and jokingly looks panicked, her head turning towards me and then to the boy across from me, both of us extending programs to her.
"Oh, dear, who will I choose?" she says, her tone light. I grin exaggeratedly.
"Mine are better," I offer, playing along. The woman uses her whole body to shrug.
"Well if you insist." To the boy, she adds, "You better watch out, I think she's trying to steal all your business." His mouth turns up on one side, crookedly smiling at her ever so slightly as she walks inside.
"Is that true?" I hear him say, his voice gravelly and deep. "Are you trying to ruin me?"
"Oh, of course. That's why they sent me." He laughs quietly and my stomach lurches again. His laugh is a low rumble, scratchy like he's been coughing or smoking too much but it's a pleasant sound. Understated as far as laughs go. The room is suddenly too warm.
There's a lull in traffic—all of the early birds are seated and it's too soon for the fashionably late to show up. I have no idea what to talk to him about but my body is craving the
"So, what brings you here tonight? Are you a theatre major?"
"No," he says. "I'm a music major. Just doing a favor for a friend. What about you?"
"Same, Alice was desperate for help." He nods and doesn't say anything, but he keeps his eyes on mine. It's an intense stare—far too intense for this mundane conversation. I feel the blood rush to my cheeks. I don't know how to look away but then again, I'm not sure that I really want to. My phone vibrates in my back pocket and I know it's from Jake. The thought is enough to break the gaze. I keep my eyes trained on the front doors, desperate for a distraction.
This feeling in my chest, the quick pang of…something. It hurts in the best way, and I can't deny that there are butterflies in my stomach, my skin feels too tight and I just really want to know his name.
Have I seen him before?
I'm not new to campus, being a sophomore and all, but I can't place him. Forks is a small school—only about three thousand students total. There's a possibility that he's an incoming freshman but I really doubt it—he looks too old, too mature, too rugged.
I snap my head up, suddenly aware of where I am. Rugged? Jesus, what is happening to me? I sneak a glance. He's talking to one of the patrons, directing them to the bathroom. He's wearing a small smile and as the woman walks away, he runs a hand through his hair and his focus is back on me. He smiles again when he finds me looking at him, it happens so automatically he seems to be taken off guard.
"I'm Bella, by the way," I offer, reaching out my hand for him to shake. He looks amused.
"Edward." And when he shakes my hand I nearly fell over. The warm roughness is electric and the current goes straight to my chest and deep in my stomach. I'm sure my expression mirrors his—eyes wide, mouth parted. He cocks his head to the side and furrows his brow.
At that moment, the next rush comes in and we have to go back to passing out programs.
But as we do, our eyes keep meeting and I know he felt it too.
"Thank you soooo much, Bella," Alice says, pulling me into the room with the copier again so I can change my shirt. The show has started and my job is done, Alice had told me that I could stay for the show but I declined, knowing that Jake would be waiting up for me.
"Oh, it was really no big deal," I mumble, pulling the polo over my head and tossing it to her. Once I'm back to normal, my hair coming undone a bit more than when I started, Alice pulls the door open to find Edward standing right outside.
"Hey Alice, do you just want the shirts in that box?" he asks, pointing behind us. His eyes find mine and my cheeks burn. Alice says something back but I don't hear her. All I see is green under glass.
Alice begins having a lengthy conversation with him and I squeeze past her and when I get to the door, he scoots over a little so I can leave but I feel his hand brush my arm. I look at him over my shoulder and he's flexing his hand, my arm burns where he's touched me.
weeeeee next chapter up soon, i'm hoping to update twice a week.
i'd love to hear what you think so far