Edward's POV

We had finally gotten back three days ago from Italy, and had been unpacking ever since. Jake had emailed me that he had a new girlfriend, well not new, since they'd been together awhile now. He had told me about her a few months back, and emailed me a picture of the two of them from junior year, taken in late February. She was a brunette, with pale skin, brown eyes and soft pink lips, a lot shorter than Jake. It must have been something about the lighting – maybe they had been around a campfire? – but she just seemed kind of plain. It was evident, though, from the way they were laughing in the photo and the twinkle in their eyes, that they were happy together, and I was happy for Jake that he had someone.

As for me, there were a few girls who had caught my attention – a few stolen kisses in dark corridors at school and weekend parties throughout high school – but nothing that had ever become serious. More often than not, I found that the hotter a girl was, the more flaky, superficial and gossipy she was. They just wanted to say to their girlfriends – and the rest of the school – that they were with Edward Cullen, the "hot American". They just wanted the social status. Couldn't we just have a normal conversation, without them trying to make it into a show for whoever was around us? You can't really be in a relationship with someone, if you can't stand to be around them when they're talking, even if they are beautiful.

Alice was so excited to be back in Forks. She was bouncing around the house, making sure everything was ready for the first day of school, for new classes and new people and the chance to wear her new outfits. It would be nice to meet some new people, but my hopes weren't too high for new blood. It was Forks after all. I was glad I'd get to see Jake again, but hoped that his new girlfriend wouldn't be too much to handle, not like the girls back at my Italian high school.

"Jeez, Alice, calm down," I said, as I drove us to school in the Volvo.

"I'm just so excited! We'll get to see Jake again, and meet his new girlfriend – oh, I hope we'll be best friends right away! And all the people we haven't seen in years, I wonder how everyone turned out. I mean, we're seniors! This is just going to be the best year ever. I wonder if there will be any cute guys…? I know, I know, it's Forks, but still a girl can hope, right?..." Alice went on like that the entire ride to the high school, through the parking lot, and into homeroom, ogling a few guys on the way in. Our homerooms were organized alphabetically according to last names, so I was expecting that Alice, Jake and I would be in homeroom together – Forks High wasn't big enough to have that many homeroom classes for the B's and the C's to be split up.

Alice danced gracefully from the back of the classroom down the rows of desks to the second row in the class, and plopped down into an unoccupied chair next to someone she evidently thought was cute and right away engaged in enthusiastic small talk.

I glanced around the room, and saw Jake on the other side of the classroom, his eyes on Alice, recognizing her messy pixie haircut. He looked around, expecting to find me following close behind, and he got up to greet me.

"Cullen! Man, long time no see. Back in Forks."

"Yeah, good to see you too, Black." We shook hands and quickly man-hugged with a pat on the back. He slugged me on the shoulder, and sat back down on the top edge of his chair with one leg up on the seat. I put my stuff down on the seat next to his, and we chatted a little before class.

He mentioned that he'd introduce me to his girlfriend, Bella, at lunch. His eyes lit up when he mentioned her. "You're gonna love her, man. She's great. I don't know what it is about her, but she's just… perfect. I wish everyone- I wish you could find someone like her. I just want to be with her all the time. And when we are together, alone together…. Yeah…." He smirked mischieviously.

I chuckled. "Jake, she sounds awesome. I'm happy for you. Can't wait to meet her." Inside, I believed Jake when he talked about her like that, but I was still skeptical. I just hadn't ever met a girl that impressed me that much.

Biology was my third class of the day. I was a little early, so when I sat down at a lab table there wasn't anyone in the seat next to me. As people filtered in, I noticed them eyeing the available seats, trying to decide where to sit, but no one opted for the one next to mine. Being easily recognizable as the new kid, for the third class in a row I was sized up by everyone in the class as they came in. My bronze hair was perfectly gelled to look exactly like I hadn't done anything to it, my clothes were subtle yet fashionable (thanks to Alice and living in Italy for the past three years), and with my right arm resting over the back of my chair I lounged comfortably, pencil in my left hand, tapping it on my notebook, waiting for class to start. The guys tried to gauge whether I was competition – most concluded that I was. As for the girls, obvious by their giggles, their eyes wandering over my body and hastily turning away as I caught them, and their whispers to each other, I was eye candy, but too sweet to actually strike up a conversation with. It looks like I won't be making many new friends this year. At least I have Jake to hang out with, and Alice, when she's not running around with her new boy-toy, which I'm sure she's found by now.

The classroom was almost full and the teacher had just came in when I happened to notice one last girl walking in late. She was a little flushed, and she began to walk hurriedly down the row of lab tables so as not to be caught still standing when the teacher started class. Just then, the sleeve of her arm was caught by another girl who was seated already. These two girls embraced and jumped up and down a couple of times, the late girl squealing her friend Angela's name and starting a quick, whispered conversation, apparently updating each other on their lives since the last time they met.

As I watched her, I took in the way her hands and lips moved when she was excitedly talking to Angela, the way the end of her ponytail rested lightly between her shoulder blades, the way her cheeks were flushed evenly with rosy pink. Her complexion was perfect, her lips were soft but full. Her deep penetrating chocolate brown eyes held some secret in them, but also an awareness, a special wisdom. I could tell from those eyes that she was kind and confident and happy with life, that she became happy when others were happy and didn't hold it against them. Completely thrown off-balance by her effect on me, I straightened up, glanced quickly around, adjusted my blazer, went to run my hands through my hair, but thought better of it, all in one quick and instantly nervous action. I looked back at her.

The way the curve of her shoulder blades ran down her back to her waist and slightly out again over her jeans made her posture impeccable but she managed it so easily and gracefully that it seemed she could not be shaped any other way. Her laugh was melodious and true, not abrasive like the way so many of the girls I knew back in Italy giggled.

Aware that the teacher was about to start class, the late girl quickly touched Angela on the arm, promising to catch up more after class, and turned to continue down the row of tables in search of her own seat. She still had a smile on her face from catching up with Angela, and when she noticed that the only empty seat was the one next to me, she looked up and met my eyes, which were still staring at her, taking all of her form and mannerisms in. She stopped in her tracks for a fraction of a second, instantly blushed, readjusted the strap of her book bag and brushed a wisp of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail back behind her ear. As I looked her straight in the face, something about the curve of her upper lip, the line of her nose and the tilt of her eyes made me feel a bit of déjà vu. Had I met her before? I would definitely remember meeting her, this exquisite and elegant angel. She didn't seem to be the three-years-older version of anyone I had known before we moved away. But I couldn't shake the feeling that somehow, I had just been picturing similar facial features in my mind…

She looked down at her feet and hurried to take her spot next to me, avoiding looking my way as the teacher began class. Our Biology teacher was new to the school this year, so he didn't know any of the students. He took attendance in order to start to familiarize himself with our names.

"Adams, Steven."

"Here." A guy in the back row who looked like he wanted to be on the football field replied, flexing his biceps with his fingers crossed behind his head, and sighed in boredom.

"Buford, Molly."

"Here." A girl with a long blond braid down her back answered from the front row

"Cullen, Edward."

At the sound of my name, the girl who sat next to me lifted her head up from the doodles she had been making on her notebook cover, looked at the teacher, then glanced around the room.

Fascinated and puzzled by her reaction, I said, "Here," with my eyes looking at the back of her head.

Her head whipped around, and she looked me straight in the eye, her eyes widened, eyebrows raised and lips slightly parted. As her ponytail whirled behind her, the scent of strawberries bloomed in the air, rushing over me, intoxicating me. It was so different from the chemical perfumes that all of the girls at my old school drenched themselves in. I felt my upper body lean into that scent, but I stopped the movement as soon as I realized what I was doing and my eyelids fluttered in shock at my reaction. How is it possible that someone could smell that wonderful, that mouth-watering? It was like a siren call. Her cheeks, having finally returned to normal from when she was walking to her seat, instantly reddened again. She took in a breath slowly, and in that split second when our eyes met again I saw the cogs working in her brain, but on what, I had no idea. How did she know my name? I hadn't been in Forks for years. Did she know something about me? The only person I had ever really been good friends with before we left for Italy was…. Jacob.

No.

Could it be? Could this be…?

She hurried back to her doodles, but not before I mentally compared that plain girl in the photograph that Jacob had sent me with the embodiment of divine beauty and grace that sat two feet away.

The teacher continued down his list of names. "Stanley, Jessica."

"He-ere," a perky, small-framed girl sitting at the table opposite mine sang her response while flipping through her textbook.

"Swan, Isabella." The girl at my table looked up, raised her hand slightly to help the teacher find her, spoke a quiet "Here, but I go by just Bella, actually," and quickly glanced in my direction, then back down to her notebook. But not before I saw the now-familiar blush on her face.

Bella. Jacob's Bella. Fuck my life.