2. Facing Fate

By Monday, my mood had lightened considerably and I was determined not to let the power Isabella held over me affect my mood. Emmett threw the first snowball, which I ducked. I laughed when the snowball hit Rose right in the face. Outraged, she shrieked as she chased Emmett through the parking lot.

My victory was short-lived, however, as a snowball Alice had thrown clipped me in the ear. I turned on my little pixie sister, gathering a ball of my own. Before I could throw it, she shoved a clump into my face.

Jasper laughed, shaking his head at our antics. My gaze locked briefly with Alice's and a smirk spread across my face. I tossed the snowball in my hand, but Jasper dodged it easily. I heard a yelp and turned to see Rose shoving handfuls of snow down Emmett's shirt.

I chuckled. No less than you deserve.

Emmett turned in my direction and smirked. You're about to get what you deserve, little brother.

I saw Alice's vision of me being bombarded with an avalanche of snow and jumped out of the way just in time.

"Alice," Jasper whined.

She grinned sheepishly. "Sorry."


We filed into the cafeteria, laughing, and sat down at our usual table. I caught a glimpse of Isabella standing in line with her friends to purchase her lunch. I diverted my gaze before she could look in our direction.

She's staring at you, Alice teased.

I turned to find that Alice was right. Isabella's gaze dropped the moment she realized she'd been caught, but this time I couldn't look away. Her pale skin made her look like a winter angel and, for a moment, the fantasies returned.

I DID NOT need to see that, Rose whined.

I grinned. Sorry. I wasn't, really.

The girl, Jessica, frowned. What's so special about Bella? Why is he staring at her like that?

Her stray thought made me chuckle. If only she knew.

She snickered. She's got it bad.

My eyebrows arched at the observation. Of course Bella was attracted to me—just like every other Human girl in this school. It was part of the trap. For the rest of the lunch hour, she avoided looking in my direction and I fought to suppress my disappointment. I realized that she was embarrassed. I grimaced. Had my behavior last week truly humiliated her that badly?


I resisted the urge to laugh at how hard she was trying to pretend that she didn't care. I entered the room and slid into the chair beside hers. She was very engrossed in the doodles she was constructing.

"Hello," I greeted cautiously.

Her gaze snapped to me and she wore a stunned expression. Now that my thirst was more under control, I realized that I couldn't hear even a slight whisper of her thoughts. How curious. The best way to delve further, I decided, was to introduce myself and watch her reaction.

"My name is Edward Cullen," I added. "I didn't have a chance to introduce myself last week. You must be Bella Swan."

"H-how do you know my name?" she stammered.

I laughed. My gaze flickered to her lips so quickly that I doubt she noticed. They were a deep cherry red against her pale skin and the flush that lighted her cheeks fascinated me.

"Oh, I think everyone knows your name. The whole town's been waiting for you to arrive."

She cringed and I fought back another laugh.

"No, I meant why did you call me Bella?"

My brow furrowed. "Do you prefer Isabella?"

"No, I like Bella," she countered. "But I think Charlie—I mean my dad—must call me Isabella because that's what everyone here seems to know me as."

"Oh."

Not a moment too soon, Mr. Banner started class, explaining today's lesson. Identifying the phases of mitosis would be too easy for me. I decided to allow Bella to try.

"Ladies first, partner?" She stared at me for a moment and I realized that my smile was unintentionally dazzling her. At times, I cursed that ability. She continued to stare and my smile faded. "Or I could start if you wish."

Her cheeks flushed. "No, I'll go ahead."

She snapped the first slide into place with an ease that spoke of familiarity and adjusted the objective, then studied the slide briefly.

"Prophase," she offered confidently.

I paused. "Do you mind if I look?" I blurted before she could remove the slide, my hand grabbing hers to stop her. The warmth of her hand surprised me, but the shock stung my hand. She pulled away before I could and I realized that she had felt it too.

Embarrassed, I pulled my hand back, then reached for the microscope. I fought to control my shaking hand as I glanced at the slide.

"Prophase," I agreed, writing my conclusion on the worksheet. I then switched the first slide for the second and quickly examined it. "Anaphase." I wrote that in the second space.

"May I?" she asked. I smirked as I realized the game we were inadvertently playing and pushed the microscope toward her. My smirk widened as I noted the frown that slid across her lips as she studied it.

"Slide three?" she asked, holding out her hand.

I handed it to her, careful not to touch her hand again. She barely glanced at it before concluding, "Interphase." She passed me the microscope and I scarcely glanced at it before writing the answer under the third section.

We finished surprisingly quickly and I knew for certain that Bella Swan was more observant than I had given her credit for, most especially when she asked, "Did you get contacts?"

I panicked, struggling to come up with a vague enough reply while managing a puzzled look. "No."

"Oh. I thought there was something different about your eyes."

I shrugged and quickly looked away. Her intense gaze had brought back the hunger and I clenched my fists in a miserable attempt to distract myself from the thirst. Mr. Banner came to our table and relief washed over me as his scent nearly drowned out Bella's, allowing me to regain control.

"So, Edward, didn't you think Isabella should get a chance with the microscope?"

"Bella," I corrected. "Actually, she identified three of the five."

He glanced at Bella, his gaze skeptical. "Have you done this lab before?"

She smiled sheepishly and I chuckled softly. "Not with onion root."

"Whitefish blastula?"

"Yeah."

Mr. Banner nodded. "Were you in an advanced placement program in Phoenix?"

"Yes."

His features remained neutral, but I could see the slight annoyance in his eyes. "Well, I guess it's good you two are lab partners." He began to walk away, muttering under his breath, "Damned gifted kids. Waste of their time and mine."

I returned my attention to Bella and found her again doodling in her notebook. "It's too bad about the snow, isn't it?"

She didn't visibly react. "Not really." I had the feeling that her answer was honest.

"You don't like the cold." Odd. Most of the Humans here seemed to be enjoying the snow.

"Or the wet."

"Forks must be a difficult place for you to live."

"You have no idea," she muttered.

I hadn't liked the climates that we were required to live in at first either, but the rainy areas of the country were the best place for vampires who enjoyed walking in the daytime and wished to avoid our differences being noticed. I had grown accustomed to the weather and had even grown to like snow.

But for a Human who had the choice, it was odd that she would come here if she despised cold, wet weather.

"Why did you come here, then?"

"It's...complicated."

This caught my attention and I pursued the truth further. "I think I can keep up."

Our gazes locked and she answered quickly. "My mother got remarried."

"That doesn't sound so complex," I replied. I studied her for a moment before adding, "When did that happen?"

"Last September."

How odd that she sounded so resigned. "And you don't like him."

"No, Phil is fine. Too young, maybe, but nice enough."

If she thought he was nice, then, "Why didn't you stay with them.

"Phil travels a lot. He plays ball for a living."

A smile slid over my lips at the return of hers. "Have I heard of him?"

"Probably not. He doesn't play well. Strictly minor league. He moves around a lot."

How fascinating it was to be forced to have a conversation aloud to get my answers instead of merely picking them from her mind. I found that I very much liked the sound of her voice and the conversation seemed to have broken the earlier tension between us. She was relaxed now that I wasn't glaring at her or giving clipped responses to her questions.

"And your mother sent you here so that she could travel with him." By the defiant tilt of her chin, I could tell I'd guessed incorrectly. I suppose my tone would come across as a bit patronizing given that I was used to knowing facts when spoken aloud. It was still strange for me to vocalize my thoughts and I often used the wrong inflection.

"No, she did not send me here. I sent myself."

Curious. "I don't understand," I admitted, frustrated at my inability to read her mind.

She sighed. "She stayed with me at first, but she missed him. It made her unhappy...so I decided it was time to spend some quality time with Charlie."

She chose to be unhappy rather than see her mother unhappy. How extraordinary selfless. An angel in body and soul. A lump formed in my throat. She was perfection...more so than I'd anticipated. God help me but I was falling in love with her more and more each moment.

"But now you're unhappy."

"And?" she challenged. There was a gleam in her eyes that betrayed a strength I doubted she even knew she was capable of.

"That doesn't seem fair," I responded with a shrug.

I felt a sharp pang in my gut at the dry laugh that escaped her lips. "Hasn't anyone ever told you? Life isn't fair."

If only she knew. "I think I've heard that somewhere before," I added wryly.

"So that's all."

Her abrupt words snapped me from my thoughts. The pain was beginning to fade from her gaze and the anxiety returned. "You put on a good show," I observed. "But I'd be willing to bet that you're suffering more than you let anyone see."

At her grimace, I knew that I'd struck a nerve; but she didn't respond.

"Am I wrong?" I pressed.

Again, she didn't respond. I couldn't help but feel a little smug.

"I didn't think so."

I'd managed to figure her out without reading her mind. I was a little rusty given that the last ninety years I hadn't needed to extend much effort into reading people.

"What does it matter to you?" she snapped, her eyes dropping.

I'd definitely hit a nerve. "That's a very good question," I muttered in response.

It was clear she expected a further explanation. I had none to offer her. I still questioned my own motives, still unsure as to whether delving deeper into my reaction to her was in her best interests.

At her scowl, I bit back a laugh. "Am I annoying you?"

She glanced at me and a surprisingly honest answer passed her lips. "Not exactly. I'm more annoyed at myself. My face is so easy to read—my mother calls me her open book."

A smile threatened. "On the contrary, I find you very difficult to read." And it was the truth. Only through her facial expressions was I able to ascertain her reactions to certain facts.

"You must be a good reader then."

I couldn't stop the wide smile. "Usually."

The thirst was returning and I again leaned away from her, gripping the table to distract myself. I nearly sighed with relief when the bell rang. I slid from my seat and exited the classroom.


I watched her move through the rain toward her truck and the irony struck me like a freight train—she might hate the rain, but damn me if she didn't look even more radiant with the little droplets of water running down her face and neck. In her determination to get somewhere dry, she didn't notice me watching her at first.

She slammed the door to the truck shut and I watched as she unzipped her jacket, pulled the hood back and fluffed her hair. I subconsciously licked my lips as images of her unshielded skin contrasting with stark white sheets, her auburn hair fanned over a pillow popped into my mind.

She turned and our gazes locked. My stomach dropped for a moment when the vehicle moved abruptly backward, nearly hitting a car. Fortunately, she stopped in time. She pulled out again and continued straight past me without so much as a glance. I couldn't resist the urge to chuckle.


I knew what I'd be facing before I even walked through the door—one of the disadvantages to being able to read minds. It only served to make me more nervous.

Alice would be happy for me, of course. She understood better than most of them what it was like to be alone. Carlisle would be skeptical. Despite his advice to follow my heart, I knew he was afraid of how Bella's blood would tempt me. Rosalie would be angry at me for risking our secret. Esme would worry for me. Emmett and Jasper would keep to themselves at first, but in the end would voice their disapproval.

I opened the door with a shaky hand and stepped over the threshold. In an instant, I was bombarded with their thoughts and I winced at the volume.

Enough.

The thoughts silenced instantly and Carlisle came down the stairs with the others treading cautiously behind him.

I've made my decision, Rose, and I stand by it.

Her lips tightened and rage gleamed in her eyes.

Do you realize what this could cause?

I nodded. I'm aware of that, yes.

Then why would you continue knowing how this could end?

Because she is my eternity, Rose, as Emmett is yours.

Alice grinned. About time you admitted that to yourself.

I chuckled. It hadn't been easy to get past my fears. In fact, I wasn't sure if I'd completely abandoned them. But I knew that if I didn't try, I could lose my chance at having what Carlisle, Esme, Emmett, Rose, Alice and Jasper all had.

Before I could say another word, Rose stormed back up the stairs, her gaze like fire. I sighed. I didn't like fighting with her. The silence was tense. Gradually, the others followed Rose back upstairs—all of them but Alice. She descended the stairs and hugged me tightly.

Don't let it bother you, Edward. You know how envious Rose is of Humans.

I grinned wryly. I knew only too well. She'd had a life to look forward to before her fiancé had betrayed her. In many ways, she still wanted some of those things. It tore her apart that she couldn't ever have children—a regret that I shared in a way.

I'd always imagined sitting in front of the fire with my children, sharing with them the many moments that my father had shared with me during my childhood. All of that had changed the moment I'd been diagnosed with Spanish influenza. So many of my family and friends had died of it, giving me no hope of surviving it myself. I'd been resigned to my fate until Carlisle had offered me salvation.

I grimaced and shook the memories from my mind. It really was better not to think about life before my transformation. The images only served to torture me. With a resigned sigh, I retreated to my room.