I spent six days in Alaska. The Denali coven had always been welcoming allies to my family, and while I wanted to be alone, I needed someone to know where I was. To keep me grounded, to hold me accountable. They were gracious in giving me my time alone, hiding and sitting in silence in the snow-covered trees of the forest. Even Tanya had done her best to leave me in peace, though her thoughts perplexed me as they always did. I'd never understand her motivation. Why was she so eager to have me around? As a close friend? Her thoughts were hard for me to understand, even if I read them clearly as anyone else's. Kate and Irina were more annoyed with her "bothering" me than I was, but eventually, I had come to the decision to return home. This girl, this little human, was not going to keep me from my family. She wasn't going to drive me out of Forks. Every day until our graduation would be a test for me, but I would overcome each time. I was determined to strengthen my control over myself, even if it meant running up through Canada every so often. I would always return.
Keeping up this optimism was a challenge, one that my family could see immediately. I found myself eavesdropping on poor Bella's friends, all of the suitors that wanted to take her to prom. Angela Weber, a fellow member of the art club, was the easiest to watch Bella through. Her mind was the most peaceful, less judgmental than Jessica, and less…horny than Mike. I learned so much about the girl through her eyes. I had to keep that impulse under control as well, the urge to reveal how much I knew, how much I paid attention. To Bella, Edythe Cullen was the girl who stormed out of the art room as soon as he had come in. I would have assumed she didn't even know my name, but hearing her lunch room chat with Angela had proven that I had made quite a reputation for myself. Isabella had thought she had upset me. "I don't know, maybe I sat too close to her? She was looking at me like I'd killed a puppy in front of her or something." I had heard the girl's voice in Angela's mind during a lunchroom conversation. So much for priding myself on my poker face. Thankfully, Miss Weber had assured her that "the Cullens are just a little shy. Edythe, especially. She's always kept to herself, but I'm sure she isn't upset with you, Bells." Bells. Did she like that nickname? As minute a detail as it was, I would have given my left arm to hear whether she did or not, to hear it in her thoughts, not through her lips.
Alice and I shared our last class, U.S History. We sat together in the back, able to murmur and think our conversations back and forth so quietly; it was a chance for me to make sure I would survive the meeting today. I didn't even have to ask, just one look in Al's direction and I saw the outcomes in my mind. Yes, the possibility of massacre was there, but it was tiny. Much less intense than before. My mind was set, I was determined, and therefore, the future of today ended in Bella's favor. Splendid.
This vision did give me more confidence, though I worried over how I would speak to Bella. Did I have to speak to her at all? No, not particularly. I could block her out with my music, and paint, and let her keep wondering if I was angry with her. My persistently still heart seemed to ache at the idea, though. I didn't want her fretting over that. And if Alice had seen a future where we were evidently friends, then that meant that maybe, just maybe, Bella wanted to be in my life in the future. That had to start somewhere. Selfishly, I wanted it to start today. Her life was better without me, her future was infinitely easier without me, but I wanted to know her more. I wanted to put my nose where it didn't belong, I wanted to pry my way into her healthy, human life.
When the last bell rang, I rushed as fast as humanly possible to shove my books into my locker and go to the art club meeting. Why was I excited? Honestly, I was excited for another test to my willpower? Excited to prove that I could do this, I could sit beside Bella Swan and perhaps even speak to her, without attacking her? I was no more vain than Rosalie, I wanted to be able to take pride in that. I set up my paints again in my corner, retrieving the smashed canvas. Maybe it could be something interesting. An abstract piece on the desire to destroy everything. Call it teen angst bullshit.
The other students filtered in, Mrs. Welch giving some small talk to the others and beginning to introduce the idea of the annual fundraiser to the more outspoken, participating types. And when that door swung open again, I thanked every deity there might or might not have been that I had hunted just hours before coming into school this morning. The fire was there, extremely so, but I could resist. I already felt so full, there wouldn't be any more room left if I went for Bella in the first place. That was the lie I told myself, at least, and it was rather comforting.
She seemed hesitant to come near me. I had made quick work of cleaning some brushes for her, an even spread of large to small detailed bristles, while I had set up my own station, and this seemed to catch her eye. She looked around the room, and I agonized over who she might have thought did that for her. I highly doubted she would consider me in the running.
"An apology," I chimed in. Her head spun in my direction, and her cheeks flooded pink. I had to bite the inside of my cheek for a moment before continuing. "For my behavior, last week. I had to take a phone call, and I didn't get to introduce myself. I normally don't make a habit of such a horrible first impression." Lies, lies, lies. Glad to be starting this friendship off on the right foot.
Bella didn't seem any more comforted by my words. It looked as if I had set her on edge, her brow was furrowed, her teeth had a hold on her full bottom lip. Nonetheless, I watched her set down her things and begin to squeeze dollops of paint onto her palette. "Thank you…Edythe, right?" she asked, as if she hadn't said my name exactly nine times today at lunch. The thought made me smirk.
"Edythe Cullen, yes. You're Isabella. Whole school has been talking about you." And thinking. I suppose it was a comfort to know that I wasn't the only one plagued with thoughts of her. Everyone had taken an interest. The boys, especially. I began to absently paint shades of orange onto my canvas, blending with the edges of red paint that had dried almost a week ago now. When I glanced back in her direction, her face was almost the same color as the scarlet. Did she not know how tempting that was?
She didn't seem to know where to start, her choice of color palette was an absolute mess of clashing tones, but who was I to judge? I never knew where to start, either. Bella picked up a smaller brush, and the tiniest dab into azure, before carefully working along the bottom edge of the canvas. "I prefer Bella, but yes," she replied. So she didn't prefer Bells. "I wish they wouldn't." She laughed nervously.
She was shy. It was painfully obvious, of course, but to see it so close, to see it in a conversation with myself, it was…charming. Endearing. I wanted to protect her from all unwanted attention, but then I also wanted that delicious blush to paint her cheeks all the time. Quite the dilemma. "Ah, well," I sighed, feigning nonchalance. "People always talk." After all, you had a lot to say about me, I thought smugly to myself. I was becoming more proud by the second, I was having an actual conversation with her and I was barely thinking about how much I wanted to sink my teeth into her throat. Perhaps more than barely. But I could resist.
Bella had nothing to say to this. Had I embarrassed her? Had I made her think about how she had talked about me with her friend? I would never fault her for that, of course, and I had never intended to make her feel guilty. I couldn't express any of these feelings to her, but I wanted to take that tension out of her shoulders. Smooth the crease between her brows. The best I could do was change the subject. "So. Art club. Welcome," I chuckled. "Have you been recruited into helping with the fundraiser yet?" Technically, Mrs. Welch hadn't yet spoken to me about it personally, but I could always pass it off as eavesdropping. I had seen her vision clearly in her mind. Flower pots. She had the surprisingly decent idea of teaming up with the gardening club. They sell flowers, in pots we paint. I explained this idea to Bella, and her eyes finally turned away from her canvas to meet mine. Instead of any actual response, I got something completely out of the blue.
"Did you get contacts?"
What the hell? I was suddenly too aware of how everyone else must feel, not being able to predict what someone would say to you, and I had to say, I didn't enjoy it. I was doing well, dammit, and then she had picked up on that. How had she even seen my eyes in the few minutes we had been in the same room a week ago? Had she considered them that much. An errant thought at how much I would absolutely adore to have my eyes be the subject of her mind.No, no, those ideas weren't welcome. I opted to laugh at her question, shaking my head. "No?" I replied, confusion on my face. It reflected right back to her, that sweet furrow forming again. She cleared her throat, evidently embarrassed to have even asked. Poor dear.
"Uh. Right. Yeah, sure. Painting flower pots," she agreed. I would have to sign us up. I normally wasn't the type to go for the fundraisers, Mrs. Welch allowed us the chance to just have free time to create if that was what we chose. But this time, I was compelled to be a part of it. I nodded, smiling politely again. I let the silence take over this time, sliding one earbud into my left ear for the sake of appearances. I could hear the thoughts, and I knew I was raising suspicion amongst the other members.
Have I ever heard Edythe speak before? I'd remember a voice like that.
And Bella was worried Edythe didn't like her? Poor thing is definitely paranoid, Jessica has gotten way too into her head.
"Only one earbud today, Miss Cullen?" Mrs. Welch spoke her thoughts aloud as she made her way over with the forms to sign up for the fundraiser. She glanced at my canvas, eyebrows raising. How thought-provoking, and it isn't even finished. How this woman could entertain even the worst of art was beyond me. She was suited for her job at appreciating the art of moody teenagers, I would give her that. "Would either of you girls like to be a part of the fundraiser? We'll be partnering with the gardening club, painting flower pots, it'll be a big sale at the homecoming game!"
I took the form, signing my name in an elegant script, and handed it over to Bella, who was inexplicably staring at me. Had I done something strange? Something not human enough? Mrs. Welch didn't seem concerned, so…Maybe she was just looking. She was making this whole predator/prey dynamic far too easy. She blinked a few times, but scribbled her name beneath mine, handing the paper to the teacher. "Sorry if you can't sell whatever monstrosity I make," she teased, another nervous laugh. The older woman was quick to protest, that no art could be a monstrosity if it came from the heart, the cheesy, motivational speech she had given again and again both in the club and in her traditional classes. Once she moved on, Bella looked at me. "She's…enthusiastic," she mumbled.
I grinned, my topaz eyes creasing up in the corners. It was genuine. Bella could make me smile, an interesting point to note whenever I had to debate whether or not to follow my instincts. "She is. A great woman and teacher, but occasionally suffocating," I agreed, quietly enough so that only the other could hear. I looked her way and tapped the earbud. "Great way of warding her off, though, if you need some air." She nodded at this, smiling right back at me. She still seemed wary of me, reasonably so, but I could feel the budding of a friendship, like Alice had predicted. Hand holding didn't seem like something that would be normal anytime soon, but that was fine. I don't know why future me would be holding any friend like that anyway. Only time would tell, decisions could still change.
We remained that way for the rest of the hour, painting, occasionally exchanging words. It was mostly effortless, discussing our classes, the teachers she was liking, and eventually, art and artists. "Who is your favorite artist?" I asked. I was absorbing every last bit of information she was giving me, building up a library of useless facts and opinions from her. If I couldn't be thirsty for her blood, I was desperately hungry for her personality, and her preferences.
Bella laughed. I didn't understand why it amused her, so I turned all my attention her way, tilting my head with curiosity. "It's a silly answer," she began, "But everyone says Van Gogh. He's great and everything, but I like Bob Ross."
Bob Ross. Her favorite artist in the history of the world was Bob Ross. Public television, afro, tree-hugging Bob Ross. I had never paid him much attention. "Bob Ross," I repeated back to her. "May I ask why?"
My expression only made her laugh more, and somehow, I felt warm at that. I could make her laugh. One more pebble into the scales, dipping the weight further into the "don't kill Bella" side. "He's peaceful," she replied. "He's easy to digest. No deep, complex meanings, no pride, no desire to make a gigantic statement. He's just painting to paint, and to relax others." She shrugged. "Honestly, most of that answer comes from the fact that I've fallen asleep to him most nights since I've moved. Easier to listen to than all this rain."
I had to wonder if she was enjoying Forks. If the rain was interfering with her sleep, that couldn't bode well for her general opinion. Maybe she would move back to wherever she had come from. Jesus, the questions I had failed to ask, and I only had two minutes left before Mrs. Welch would ask us to clean up for the day. Next time I'd have to be more prepared. I didn't want to scare her, or creep her out more than I likely did. But there was so much I wanted to know.
"He is not the worst choice," I replied, a slightly teasing tone to my voice. It wasn't a lie, but it was still quite a strange one. I saw Bella glancing at the clock. Did she have somewhere to be? I looked at her canvas as she started to clean up. She definitely didn't have a plan, but I was enamored with what she had done. Layers and layers of blues, greens, even a touch of silver. It looked like she was beginning an ocean scene, and I was already dying to see what she would add to it next week. Hopefully she would continue, and not drop this piece for the sake of starting on the fundraiser. She couldn't leave me in such suspense.
As we tidied up, I knew I was getting too close. I could feel her warmth radiate from her body as we both cleaned off our palettes, wringing out the bristles of our brushes and drying them off at the counter. I could smell her shampoo, honey and vanilla. My throat could rival the dry heat of the Sahara right about now, but getting to know her had helped tremendously. I was a monster, but what sort of actual demon could I be if I chose to murder a girl whose favorite painter was Bob fucking Ross?
I put my canvas on a drying rack, and slung my backpack over my shoulder with ease. "Want to walk out with me?" I asked before I could even consider the invitation. A short nod, and another blush, from Bella. We walked through the empty hallways, out into the parking lot. I recognized her truck, much older than she was. "Nice ride," I commented. I didn't think there was malice in my tone, but Bella was defensive over her vehicle.
"Don't knock the truck," she snapped at me, and I couldn't stop the smirk again. She was so adorable. I shook my head. "Wouldn't dream of it…Bells." Glancing down at her, I saw a little twitch in her nose. No, she didn't seem to care for that. Noted.
I walked with her all the way to her truck, even if my Volvo was across the lot. I didn't mind a few extra steps. Bella stood by her door, awkwardly fidgeting with her keyring, seemingly unsure of how to leave. I was hovering, perhaps I was too close, coming on too strong. I didn't want her to think I hated her, but I also didn't want her to think I was a stalker. I decided to take the initiative. "Well, I'd better head home. My sister needs my help with a history essay, told her I'd give her a hand before dinner." I smiled, and held up a hand in some sort of wave as I started to walk away. "See you, Bella." That was normal, right? Nice and human? Anything was better than You smell delicious and I know for a fact we're going to have a long future together. See you worked well enough.
Her hand, now covered by a fingerless knitted glove, held up in return. "Bye, Edythe." My name sounded divine on her lips. I turned around, hearing the roar of her engine, and slipped into my own car. I was thirsty, immensely so, but I was over the moon. I couldn't place it. Bella shouldn't draw me in. I was a predator, yes, but why was this prey so damn special? It was like her beating heart was a magnet, and I was a useless piece of scrap metal. I could kill her before she could blink, with those perfect, long eyelashes, and yet I wanted to be her best friend.
Just as I had begun to really praise myself, take pride in my control, a new thought from Alice sent me right back to uncertainty and fear.
You're in love with her already, aren't you, Edie?
It hadn't meant to frighten me, I knew that. It was just a casual thought, but it wasn't even teasing. Alice meant it. Friends weren't in love. But Alice had seen it. The future where I held Bella's hand had expanded, I could see myself kissing her cheek through her mind, I could see Bella's arms draped around my waist. I had never seen friends act that way.
I was 108 years old, and now was the time for a sexual awakening. Perfect.
A/N: Edythe is my oblivious little gay baby. Reviews appreciated!
