(A/N Thanks to everyone who's checked the story out. Tell your friends. Reviews are appreciated and usually responded to.)
Just like everyone else here, I do not own Twilight. I do however own the mysterious redhead. He's not a vamp or a wolf, but he's ok for a human.
CHAPTER 2-ALICE'S P.O.V.
I'm the last one ready in the morning. Words can't describe how much I'm dreading today. Just remembering the visions I once had the day Edward met Bella give me chills. I dress like I usually do: jeans, a back long sleeve t-shirt, and black Converse. I don't do anything more special than brush my hair, not even bothering to blow dry it. No make-up. I don't see a point. I don't even bother doing my nails anymore. Bella tried to get me to do them earlier this week, but I ignored her. This week has been even tougher than usual. Esme has been the most annoying, trying to get me to shop online with her or trying to plan my outfit for the first day of school. She's been happier, knowing what my vision was, than she's been in a long time.
The four of us load up in Edward's Volvo, though Emmett offers to drive the Jeep. Absently, I wonder where my Porsche is. I haven't seen it since we left Forks. Hell, I haven't even driven a vehicle since…well I can't remember the last time. Everyone's quiet on the ride. Bella and Edward are holding hands across the front seats. Emmett looks tense, but doesn't say anything. "We are in agreement?" Edward asks as we pull up in front of the school, "the boy doesn't die, Alice?" I huff, then nod. "I'll be tuning in, Alice," he warns, "so try to behave yourself." He looks at me in the rearview and I respond by giving him the finger. "Real ladylike," he grumbles.
The Volvo doesn't stand out much here. There's another one here, though it's an older model. Trucks and SUV's seem to be the more popular choice. I'm guessing the frequency of snow and the rough terrain on some roads make four-wheel drive a necessity. I glance at the school map and stuff it in my bag before swinging it over my shoulder. It's the only thing I'm carrying, I don't think I even own a purse anymore. We walk as a family through the side door and I turn towards first period English by memory. Most of the seats are empty, so I take the one in the back. It's the usual first day stuff: the teacher hands syllabus and textbooks out, welcome speech. I stuff the book in my backpack without even opening it. Absently, I scan the room. No smells other than the usual human aroma. I sit perfectly still and wait for the bell to ring.
"Hey, baby," comes a voice from behind me as I walk to Spanish. I turn around. It's the quarterback, I can tell from scent. "You're new, aren't you?" he asks. I look up and nod. "Blond, blue eyes…textbook high school heartthrob. "I'm Shawn," he says. Am I supposed to be impressed? "Alice," I reply curtly. Obviously Shawn falls into the category of "can't take a hint". "Alice," he repeats with a smile, reaching over to move a piece of my hair away from my face to tuck it behind me ear. I shudder in response. No one has touched me like that since… "Where you headed?" he asks. "Spanish," I reply. He looks disappointed. "Oh well," he replies quickly, "maybe I'll see you at lunch." He waves and turns, not waiting for a reply. I roll my eyes and head to my class.
The class is full, except for one empty seat near the back. Of course it would be next to that glorious smell I've been dreading. Shit. I immediately quit breathing, although my mouth is already watering. I hurry and sit down, hoping I can will the class to be over. Ok, I understand singers now. Wiping this entire class out and draining this guy dry sounds like a damn good idea at this very moment. I cross my arms and lay my head down. Hesitantly, I take a breath hoping my own scent will help mask his. Bad mistake, the scent is even worse. I swallow back venom, my mouth refilling as soon as I swallow. How the hell did Edward do it? I ball my hands into fists and peek at the source of my torment.
I was afraid of this. It's the boy from my vision, and he looks even better up close. He has dark red hair, a little long, but not as messy as Edward's. He's pale, but there's not a lot of sun here. Besides, don't humans with red hair usually have pale skin? He's facing the front of the room. He seems deep in thought, oblivious to the fact death is sitting less than five feet from him. His eyes, sapphire blue, are eyes you could get lost in. He's dressed simply: blue jeans, black boots, and a red and black Moscow High School baseball shirt. He's got muscles without being overly bulky. He turns slowly and looks at me and I freeze. He gives me a once over then smiles…only the right corner of his mouth coming up. Our eyes lock and I smile despite myself. Without saying anything, he turns and faces back towards the front.
Without the eyes holding me hostage, his scent resumes its assault on my olfactory system. My throat hasn't burned this bad since the day I woke up from my change. I grip the edge of my desk, fighting the urge to kill him right now. I remember Edward telling me about his first day with Bella. How he plotted ways he could slaughter the entire room, saving his singer for last. My throat burns like I haven't fed in a month. The boy, I still don't know his name, cocks his eyes in my direction. Seeing I'm drawing attention, I slowly release the desk, balling my fists up and dropping them in my lap. "Senor Willamson," comes the teacher's voice, "is there a problem?" "No ma'am," he replies, turning his eyes back towards the front, "no problemo." A snicker erupts from the class. He smirks, but doesn't look towards me again.
The period ends and I find Edward, Emmett, and Bella in the halls. "Edward, you are the strongest person I've ever met," I whisper, pulling him into a hug. He doesn't speak…only reading over what happened last period in my thoughts. "Nice work, Alice," he whispers in my ear, "and I promise it will get easier." "It would help if you spent more time with him," Emmett says with a suggestive nudge, earning him a smack from Bella. "Ignore him," Edward whispers in my ear, "you did fine." "Do you have any other classes with him?" "We didn't talk," I reply, "so I don't know." "You need to hunt tonight," he whispers, "your eyes are black." I nod, swallowing the leftover venom. Edward kisses my forehead. "You're doing fine," he whispers.
I don't see the mystery boy the next two classes, though Shawn is in my fourth period class. I don't see mystery guy until lunch. He's sitting with a large group of students, though he sits at the end of the table and eats in silence. "Hey, Alice," comes Shawn's voice, "want to sit with us?" I shake my head before he can get close and go to sit with my family. "That him?" Emmett asks. "No," Edward answers for me. "Good," Emmett says with a growl, "he looks like the pretty boy quarterback type." "He is," Edward replies, "with some really nasty thoughts." I groan, laying my head on the table again. "Your singer is looking at you," Edward comments. It figures he would be scanning everyone's thoughts. "What's he thinking?" Bella ask. "Probably wondering what the pixie looks like naked," Emmett comments. "No," Edward replies, "he's wondering if Alice is sick. He thinks she was acting a little funny in Spanish class." I groan. "Nothing perverted?" Emmett asks. "Nope," Edward answers, "surprisingly clean…just concerned." Edward then turns to me. "And to answer your question from earlier," he says with a grin, "his name is Patrick."
Patrick. Why did that name send a shiver down my spine? "It's ok, Alice," Edward says, "you're in control." "He's cute," Bella comments. I groan. "Seriously," Emmett chimes in, "if I was gay…I'd do him." I reach behind him and smack him, earning a chuckle from him. "Anyway," I ask, trying to change the subject, "what's the gossip about the Cullen family?" Edward's lips purse in concentration. "Nothing yet," he replies, "just the usual." I nod, sitting up. My eyes lock on the mysterious Patrick.
Patrick is looking straight at me, his gorgeous blue eyes boring a curious expression. My breath hitches involuntarily. He stares unabashedly, concentrating like he's trying to see into my soul. I gaze back, unable to turn away. He sees me looking and grins again, the same half smile as Edward. He's beautiful I think…forgetting Edward is sitting right there. His face, fresh, is more man than boy without looking too hard. He has a little of stubble on his face, more a five o'clock shadow than anything. He leans back and crosses his arms across his chest, never breaking eye contact with me. We stare until the bell rings, signaling us to our next class.
I hurry out of the cafeteria, ignoring my siblings to get to my next class. Chemistry. I freeze outside the door, having a vision.
We're inside the classroom with Shawn and Patrick squaring off, both with angry looks in their eyes. I'm sitting in my chair. It looks like they're about to fight. I stand up and grab Patrick's arm, pulling him away. He turns away, his eyes on me and Shawn shoves him from behind. He falls into the desk, catching a corner with his forehead. Blood splatters across the floor and I lose it, leaping to attack. Then it goes black.
I gasp as my vision returns to normal. What do I do? I can't let him get hurt. I also can't expose us. I've got to run. Too late, the teacher's seen me. I've got to do something. I peek in the classroom. Shawn is already there, but Patrick isn't. I look around. The table in the far-left corner, in the back, is open. Perfect. I turn and end up face-to-chest with Patrick. His scent is hitting me like a ton of bricks. He smiles, starting to go inside. "Hey," I say quickly grabbing his arm. He turns, surprised. "Sit with me?" I ask, trying to pour on the charm. He ponders, then shrugs. "Ok," he says softly.
"Alice," Shawn's voice flows across the room, "I saved you a seat." I ignore him. "Looks like she's my date this period," Patrick replies, a hint of irony in his voice. If I could blush I would. "That's a little out of your league," Shawn says, obviously not happy. "She," Patrick replies, "is just my game." He turns to Shawn and they lock eyes. "Next time start with 'hi'," Pat says evenly, "'hey baby' is way too cliché." The laughter starts from the other students at Patrick's comment. "Sorry," he smirks, obviously not meaning it. With that he turns and pulls out my chair. I sit down, too stunned to even say "thank you".
His scent is even worse sitting this close. Mouthwatering is the word for the day. This was a dumb idea on my part…getting him to sit with me. "So you're Alice," he comments. I swallow thickly and nod. "Pat," he replies, offering me his hand. I pause, then slowly shake his hand. The skin on my hand hums at his touch. "Ignore Shawn," he whispers, a little too close to my ear, "he smells fresh meat and can't help himself." I roll my eyes. "You can talk, Alice," he mutters, "I won't bite." Oh, if he only knew. I turn away and swallow a quick breath, my throat still burning. "I'm sorry," he mumbles again, "didn't mean to invade your personal space." "It's fine," I reply a little too quickly, "thanks for sticking up for me." He smiles, and I can't help but smile back. Oh my God…that voice. "Shawn and I go way back," he replies but doesn't add anything. The class is called to order.
I'm going to kill him. It's just that simple. He's too close and smells too appetizing. No, I can't. My family. I wonder if I could get him alone. Yeah, that could work. I'll snatch him after school. Anything to quiet this burning in my throat. Gods I feel like I'm changing again. This is too much. Focus, Alice. I just have to get through the day.
Edward is waiting for me as I bolt out of the classroom. "You forgot I can hear you?" he asks in a low voice, grabbing my elbow. "We got a problem?" comes a voice from behind me. Patrick. Edward and I both turn around. "Does it look like Alice and I have a problem?" Edward asks, cocking his eyebrow. "If you don't take your damn hand off her, you and I are going to have a problem," Patrick growls, raising himself to full height and rolling his shoulders back. If Edward were human, I'd be fearing for his life. I can see it in Pat's eyes. He's afraid, but willing himself to not show it. I can see his Adam's apple bob, literally swallowing his fear. His accent is more pronounced. "It's ok, Pat," I say quickly, "this is my brother Edward." Edward smirks and extends his hand.
Patrick doesn't even look at him, eyes locking on me for several seconds. I give him a small smile, trying to show everything's ok. "Sorry," Patrick finally says, taking Edward's hand. Easy on his hand, I think to Edward. Edward gives a slow nod, both as a response to Patrick and to me. "Alice and I were just discussing a…family matter," Edward lies coolly, "I apologize if it appeared I meant her harm." Patrick gives him a funny look. It happens at every school, Edward still talks like he did in the 1918. "Are you ok?" Patrick asks me. I nod, afraid to breathe. I can feel the heat radiating off his body and that makes him all the more appetizing. "We were just heading to class," Edward goes on. Patrick takes the hint, though one look tells me he doesn't like it. "I'll see you, Alice," he says softly, tucking the same loose strand of hair behind my ear Shawn did. His fingertips, warm and soft, make my skin hum though I keep holding my breath until he removes it. Unlike Shawn, the gesture is both intimate and surprisingly welcome. "Bye, Pat," I say in a soft voice as Edward leads me away. "Pat?" Edward asks me, smirking.
I break away from Edward and hurry to Geometry. Patrick is there, but there aren't any empty seats beside him. I spend the hour not breathing and clenching my teeth and fists, trying to not plan on ways I could feast on this beautiful creature. Patrick does look my way occasionally, but doesn't stare like he usually does. Once again, I bolt out of the class.
I love that voice. Being a Mississippi girl originally and Jasper being from Texas, I picked up his southern drawl immediately. He's not from Texas…not "twangy" enough and he doesn't have the over syrupy sound of the delta. He sounds Southern without sounding all "You sure is a purty thang". I've heard a lot of accents in my lifetime so I try placing it. He sounds nothing like Emmett use to, so I can eliminate Tennessee. I'm guessing something in the middle between Emmett and me. Maybe Georgia or Alabama? Florida panhandle maybe. All I know is he can call me "sugar" anytime!
I get to Health and sit, thankful I can breath. "You're Alice," a girl with brown hair says, turning around to face me. I nod and give her a weak smile. "I'm Amber," she says. She has her hair pulled back in a ponytail, longer than mine. "Want some advice?" she ask. "Sure," I whisper. "Stay away from Shawn," she says quickly, "he's a jerk." I nod in agreement. Seriously," she goes on, "word is he's already after one of the new girls…and he's a complete dick." Note to self: Amber does NOT like Shawn. "Noted," I reply, "and judging from what I've seen, I agree with that assessment."
"How are you liking Moscow?" she asks. "It's ok," I reply. I give Amber a good look. She's cute…a makeover, she'd be a knockout. She reminds me of Bella with her brown hair and eyes. Amber is really dressed down in my opinion. "I've lived here all my life," she says, keeping an eye on the door for the teacher, "so if you need to know anything…I don't gossip, but I'll give you the facts." I nod. Well, if she's giving away information… "Shawn and some guy had an…exchange…last period," I say absently, like I'm trying to make conversation. "Patrick Williamson," Amber replies quickly, "there's a history there." "Really?" I ask. Why I'm interested, I don't know. Amber nods. The teacher comes in, ending conversation.
We're given a worksheet and told to pair up for it. "You and me?" I ask Amber who nods eagerly. "Anyway," Amber whispers, like our conversation was never interrupted, "Pat moved here in eighth grade." "Both him and Shawn were quarterbacks, but Shawn's been here his entire life." They got into a fight during practice freshman year…and Pat got kicked off the team." I gawk. "Why?" I ask. Amber shrugs. "Shawn's dad is important in this town," she replies. And Pat was the new kid. You know how it is." I nod in agreement. If anyone can understand being the new kid, it's my family. At one time we were the new kids every decade or so.
"But I thought Pat was on the team," I say, leading her. "That's the funny part," Amber says with a smile, "Coach Brooks…he coaches the defense…told him to try out his sophomore year. Told him he'd needed someone who could hit. Pat did and Coach Brooks put him at free safety. He couldn't say no, Coach Brooks is also the baseball coach and Pat plays second base." She shrugs. "Pat's a good athlete, and not pretty enough to be a quarterback if you ask me." "Not pretty enough?" I ask. She smiles. "Oh, he's cute," she replies, "but not in a girly-man kind of way." I giggle at that. "I've seen him play," she comments, "and he can hit like a wrecking ball. Good hands too…on the field," she adds quickly, "he doesn't date." "Why not?" I ask, confused. Usually good looking football players get their pick. "He always says he's too busy," she replies, "honestly…I don't think he wants to get tied down. He wants to go to college and get out of this town. Plus…well, he has other reasons. Not that I blame him regardless."
We chat and finish our worksheet the remainder of class. So the boy I had in my vision has a nice body, plays free safety (I would have to ask Emmett to explain), has a complete "fuck me" voice, and doesn't date. He seems like a good person. Too bad I'm going to feed off him. My mouth waters again just at the thought of it.
No one speaks as we drive home. I don't see Pat again. "Football practice, Alice," Edward replies to my thought. I nod, trying to keep my mind blank. "Brave young man," Edward comments aloud, "his instincts were telling him I was dangerous…but he ignored them. He was more interested in protecting you regardless." I nod absently. I'm going to hunt when we get home, I think. "I'll go with you," Edward replies. "No thanks," I reply harshly, "I need some time alone." "Don't do it, Alice," Edward warns, "you'll hate yourself if you do." I flip him off again, just like I did this morning.
I bolt from the car as soon as Edward puts it in park, hitting the woods as fast as my legs can carry me. I hope Edward doesn't follow, he's the only one that could catch me. I don't hunt. I just run…trying to keep my mind clear in case I'm being followed. I don't stop until I get to the practice field.
I squat in the brush, out of sight. I smell him immediately. He's wearing black football pants with all the pads in them with black cleats. He's shirtless and tossing a ball back and forth with another boy. My breath catches in my throat, but not from my thirst. He's gorgeous. Just as I'd suspected, defined without being too bulky. He has hair on his chest with a light trail down his stomach. He has a light dusting of freckles on his shoulders. He's yummy, and not in a food kind of way.
A coach calls them to order and he runs to pick up his helmet and shoulder pads, shrugging them on as he jogs. They work in individual groups and I see Pat across the field doing some kind of tackling drill. Nothing impressive, but it doesn't look like they're going full speed. They break from that and the coach starts lining them up…going over how they're suppose to line up against different formations. After an hour of this, several of the groups get together, including Pat's. I listen closer. They're doing a "three on three" drill. Three offensive guys line up to block against three defensive guys. There's another guy behind the offensive line with the ball and a defensive guy that looks set to try to tackle him. I see number three lined up in this position, though I can tell it's him by smell.
The coach stands behind the defense and makes a motion with his right hand as he barks a cadence. The linemen get into their stance and the whistle blows. I jump as their bodies crash together. The ball carrier runs the direction the coach pointed and makes it clear of the line. He makes it another two steps and tries to drop his shoulder. It doesn't work. Pat hits him like a battering ram, dropping him before he can go any further.
They do this several more times and Pat's tackle each time is clean, efficient, and brutal. The collision reminds me of when Emmett and Jasper would collide playing baseball. This thought saddens me. Pat goes and kneels on the sideline, getting a drink as I remember my love. Jasper. Twenty years and it still hurts. The drill ends after six groups and a lot of yelling later and they break up to play offense versus defense. Shawn seems to be avoiding throwing anywhere near Pat and anytime the running back makes it into the secondary, Pat is on the tackle. I don't know much about football, but I'm impressed.
I duck as the players run by, doing laps. It looks like they're finishing up. Pat runs by and my mouth waters once again. I don't fight it this time, savoring his scent. He'll be mine soon enough. Pat finishes his run in the lead pack and heads to the locker room. Time to make my move.