Second contact

In the aftermath of things perhaps I had been too childish. But then as I revisited the encounter with the Cullen's and reaching as far back as my diminutive standoff with Edward perhaps I was not. Rosalie, unlike her relatively mute brother, affirmed that there was some hostility to be had but why?

I tried not to obsess. However, and I always mentally laugh at this, my insurgence was quite real. There were always methods of distraction though, and utilizing them silenced my inquisitive nature momentarily but not unconditionally. I did hope they'd deliver the message to Esme. "Oh, sarcasm, how I love thee so."

Friday night preceded as expected. As promised I prepared grandma Swan's Swedish Meatballs and again found myself constraining the urge to vomit kneading the raw meat. I prepared a vegetable broth for me while Charlie would receive the proper aliments. Once more the Cullen's diminished as the culinary world consumed me, somewhere between the sizzle of the meatballs in the pan and me dicing ginger.

Charlie came into the kitchen smiling just after ten past six. The aroma was authentic. I corroborated with grandma's recipe constantly, and even Charlie mentioned that it took him back all the way to his mother's kitchen. The flavor profile according to my guinea pig was there though something was missing. I was glad he was sincere. I mused that I didn't have that special touch only a mother had. But in the end, Charlie was satisfied and I found my own inventive sauce quite delicious. There was nothing more to ask for.

Saturday Charlie wanted to go to the diner, and I took his offer seriously this time. He really did want to reintroduce me to folk that knew me when I was no taller than the kitchen table. I foreshadowed I wouldn't remember any of them, and that Saturday evening would be awkward. Before I'd join him at the diner I announced my trip to Seattle. Charlie wanted to come along but after a swift rebuff, and assertion of me going to the Pike Place Market for sightseeing he settled down.

I finished whatever homework I had left that night so I could rest on Sunday. I packed everything away and lamented the coming Monday. Edward Cullen stirred inside my murky memories again. There was a part of me hoping he'd be another no show. Yet, a piece of me found him interesting. I felt an unusual pull; like he was a magnet or planet that was drawing me into its orbit.

I was up till midnight reading and finishing The Catcher in the Rye. I placed it back on the shelf and was sorting through a magnificent selection of volumes I had gotten for my birthday in September. After little deliberation I settled on The Picture of Dorian Gray. I hadn't read it but could already relate to his dilemma.

After wishing Charlie a good night and settling back upstairs I retrieved the small golden key I had hidden beneath the mahogany desk. I gulped opening the drawer and taking out my own personal Boogeyman. For once my fingers did not shiver as they felt the smooth texture of the sandy envelope. Quickly I made it disappear in the side bag; I felt a bit shortsighted for having already filled it for Monday.

I went over to the window, making sure it was sealed and drew the curtains before turning off the lights. I lay awake for some time feeling the escalating rhythm of my anxious heart I began drawing deep breaths trying to steady it. "They wont tell me anything new," I thought. Whatever they'd have to say I'd already know however it was mandatory, and I needed to agree to this brief appointment. I told Charlie a half-truth again. I was indeed arranging a visit to the market but just had to make an unpleasant stop prior to visiting it.


The tour towards Seattle was boring to say the least. I drove by the Olympic National Park that I had already marveled at on my way from Seattle to Forks. The weather played along and the interstate was free of rain. I had enough songs saved on my phone for months without ever having to worry about the dread of repetition. Surprisingly I felt indifferent about the appointment, even callous.

Finally, after nearly four hours of driving and almost hitting a deer I made it. The Space Needle signaled my arrival; knowing me I could have taken a wrong turn and ended up in Olympia. Seattle seemed like a busy city and overly crowded but most of all; gloomy. I read that the suicide rate was high – I wonder why.

On my way to Harborview I passed street signs apprising me of an art museum and aquarium near the market. I'd have to convince Charlie to accompany me there. I needed to spend more time with him to truly reconnect. There was a photo album with several blank pages and it was up to me to fill it. It did make me wonder if he enjoyed conveniences like that but from what I had observed of these past short days he'd most likely tally anything.

I reached my goal on Ninth Avenue; by my reckoning I had imagined the building bigger. I parked out in the lot and turned off the engine. I cut off the music and sat there, staring. My gaze lowered to the passenger seat next to me. The inanimate thing sat there without a concern in the world. I felt impassive just then. I leaned on my elbow against the steering wheel, covering my mouth with my hand, and listened to the placid whisper of the wind.

I cherished the otherwise insignificant noises one hears when both mind and body is silent. There were audible voices somewhere in the distance, bellowing eruptions of other cars as they raced by, the deafening whir of helicopter propellers, blaring sirens, and brisk footsteps running by.

I snapped, and with brute force yanked the key from the ignition and tore the envelope to my chest. I slammed the car door shut and stomped towards the facility, ignoring life around me. I cast a lethargic look at the time, ten minutes until the appointment. I burst through the front doors with an incredible wrath that emerged every time I bore such an envelope. I disappeared through the white corridors ignoring secretaries along the way and followed the signs instead. Just mere moments after entering I hankered nothing but vanishing into thin air – immediately.


Pike Place Market was amazing. The lush amount of produce was hypnotizing. I rapidly grew to regret but also praise that I had brought only so much money. I bought fresh oranges, grapes, chocolate milk, and quail eggs – the latter which I've never had before. At the northern edge was the Crafts Market where I purchased a tawny leather armband. The design was elementary with no accessories but three strings beautifully stitched horizontally across its format. I wanted to stay longer but had a vow to keep to Charlie, and Forks was almost four hours out.

The drive home was stodgy. A few times my eyes left the road and wandered to the big chalky white envelope that had replaced its sandy predecessor. I had predicted correctly – nothing new to address. I would call Renee tonight. I haven't spoken to her since leaving Phoenix and wondered how she and Phil were progressing in Jacksonville. I hoped all was well.

I complained on the way back, "Four freaking hours… geez". The drive was long but at least the truck was sturdy. It was nearing five in the afternoon when I finally saw the pine green sign welcoming me back to dreary Forks. I drove along the main highway and stopped at the Shell station to fuel the monstrous servant who grew dearer to me with each passing day.

When I turned up at the house I hid the envelope in my bag and marched to the front door. Charlie welcomed me back by opening it for me. He had been worried I wouldn't make it and disappoint his friends. I excused myself for a quick change of clothes which mystified him but nonetheless gave me five minutes of privacy. After trapping the envelope in the drawer and hiding the key, clandestinely so, I changed shirts and headed back downstairs where Charlie was already prudently waiting.

The diner was okay. I learned that it used to be a simple donut shop but evolved and branched out to be a little more. I met the owners, an elderly couple who recognized me instantly. After some cheek pinching I truthfully admitted that I hadn't the foggiest clue as to who they were.

"Oh don't you worry Luca you'll remember me soon enough. You used to love my peanut butter cookies. Oh just look at you! So big and handsome," she cheered exhilarated. I just smiled, no doubt glowing red. Her name, Nicole Blightman, didn't tell me anything though. Charlie attempted to jog the memory but to no avail. It most likely didn't exist anymore if ever.

I met some of his fishing friends who mimicked Mrs. Blightman's notion but again, all for naught. I was glad when the food arrived. I schemed to constantly chew on something in an effort to look like a hamster with loaded cheeks – artifice at its crudest. "It's rude to speak with your mouth full after all."

It did click that people were real chummy here; a small community so everyone knew everyone I guessed. I accidentally stockpiled too much mustard on my plate when an epiphany abruptly battered me right across the face. I regarded the close-knit community of Forks again and was scratching my cheek eyeing Charlie.

"Dad what do you know about the Cullen's?" Charlie erected another pyramid of ketchup next to his potato wedges as I asked. I caught his temples itching, suspiciously, and he bit down on a wedge.

"Why do you ask?" The potato wedge must have been overly fried; the crisp between Charlie's teeth was ear shattering as he gnawed.

"I just noticed them at school and the rumor mill is too ambiguous. I was just wondering what I was supposed to believe."

Charlie swallowed his bite, "They moved down here from Alaska about two years ago. They live outside town without any neighbors and like to keep to themselves. We should consider ourselves lucky though," he said, nodding approvingly.

"Why is that?"

"Well the father, Dr. Cullen, is a top notch physician and surgeon. I think his wife wanted him to move to a bigger city but he likes smaller communities. When they first got here some of the boys from the reservoir made some trouble boycotting the hospital. I don't know; something about not liking outsiders. Billy and I clashed over it too. It died down after awhile though when Dr. Cullen proved he was more than capable. Occasionally there are a few uproars but I drive 'em off pretty quick."

So their father was the physician in town? Alright, that explains nothing. "Well, I was actually referring to my fellow classmates, his children."

Charlie finished off a mouthful from his burger and brushed a napkin through his mustache before going on, "I don't have any trouble with 'em. You rarely see 'em in town, and if you do they only show respectable manners. They're not like other hoodlums around here who love to vandalize abandoned houses and get me huntin' for their parents."

"I see." I picked at my veggie burger, inspecting it for any hidden pockets of meat before risking a taste. There was no potato left in the wedges either, they were hollow and crisp. Charlie and I continued eating in silence as was becoming ceremonial.

"Respectable manners?" I could think of two that lacked all goodwill and expressed symptoms of anthropophobia – fear of people. I only knew that because three years ago I had self-diagnosed myself with it. I was wrong, I think.

The tale of the Cullen's rooted itself deeply inside my head. If Charlie thought they were so agreeable I questioned why the boys from La Push boycotted the hospital in particular. Who were they, exactly? I reasoned that Esme must be the wife then. I still lacked affirmation to this theory although I was convinced she was their mother. But she seemed so young. Esme couldn't have been older than thirty?

"Do me a favor and be careful next week at school Luc, alright? The city's movin' in some workmen to fix the leaks on the roof so it'll be a small construction site. As a matter of fact they'll be replacin' a decent chunk of it."

I took a final bite from my burger which was pretty tasty, "Sure thing."

Charlie made a prolonged round through the diner as I waited at the table. I saw it as his duty as chief to ascertain if any of the folk had problems. He was definitely dedicated I'll give him that. I leaned a fist up against my cheek as I commended him – smiling. Luckily no other old acquaintance of which I had no memory chose to speak to me.

"What?" Charlie stood in front of me with a receipt dangling between his fingers.

"You really do take pride in your profession don't you?"

Absentmindedly he shrugged it off, "I do what I can. It's my job to make sure all goes well in town. One day when you have a career it'll be the same."

I muffled a critical laugh, "We'll see but I have to make it through high school first."

"Don't worry," Charlie contravened, "once you've graduated you can go on to college and do somethin' amazing with your life. I can't wait to see the great things you'll do." He kept his arm firmly around my shoulders and I mine around his waist as we walked out to the police cruiser.

It might be ridiculous but I hadn't devoted a lot of spirit towards choosing a career path.


When Sunday emerged with the easterly break of the sun all my problems had suddenly been restrained. It was a peaceful day. Charlie met up with Billy to go down to the creek for one last fishing extravaganza. Even though November had shown its murky face the day was mild but it was all the same to me. My preparations for Monday were done so I blissfully continued my journey into the world of Dorian Gray.

By noon and after a quick snack consisting of two grilled cheese sandwiches and fruit I decided to give Renee a call.

"LUCA!" I had to detach the phone from my head as her thundering voice punctured my eardrum.

"How's everything going? How are you? How's school? Is Charlie doing okay?" This would generate at least two hours of conversation I thought. Renee was just as snoopy as me, and always felt the urge to investigate. We were just two kittens, patiently waiting for curiosity to kill us off.

"Everything's fine. I'm doing okay, school will be school, and Charlie is great. Now, with all that shipped off I'd much rather hear about Jacksonville."

Renee, with a smile in her voice, told me about the sunny shores of Florida. Even now in the midst of winter the temperatures were moderate. She and Phil hadn't much time to explore yet but did visit a place called Amelia Island. When she told me they had tried their hand at golf I couldn't help but burst into tears.

"You? Please, and be honest, what was your score?"

"That's not important. I had fun, and that's all that matters." I cracked and fell back on my pillows laughing. I could only imagine how long Phil had to prevail, waiting on my mother to finally sink that small ball.

"Don't be mean Luca. I didn't do that bad, really," I wiped a small tear from the corner of my eye and regained some composure.

"I'm sorry mom but just imagining you out there with short white pants and a checkered flat cap is too much for me." I pictured a comic strip with Renee as the headliner striking out at least five times before finally managing to connect only for the ball to land in a pond – swallowed by an alligator and all!

"Oh, leave me alone; there are many more things' I'll try pretty soon but listen. I know that Christmas is just around the corner and even though we all just left Phoenix a few days ago I want you to spend it with me in Florida."

I sighed, shaking free the last laugh, "Mom I haven't spent a single Christmas in Forks for five years. If anything you should come see us." I heard a disheartened groan on the other line.

"I thought about that but I don't think Phil and I will be able to make it. His parent's are flying in from Arizona so we're stuck."

"Oh, well, I really have my heart set on spending Christmas in Forks. Maybe we can all have a get together next year then."

"But, but Luca you–,"

"Mother! It'll be fine. If anything reserve September for my birthday and cool down in Forks. Your body might just appreciate the natural air conditioning."

She frowned, "Alright, if you say so."

The next hour was spent reciting times past. We discussed her whimsical phases ranging from the culinary realm to crafts, classical music, country western, knitting, baking, the latter almost causing a house fire, and computing. We laughed about the plethora of failed experiments but also how her interest in cooking and music left its mark on me.

"See? I did something right didn't I?"

This bewildered me, "Mom, please, you did everything right. I can take care of myself. I'm responsible, adamant, tenacious, and I prefer to consider myself not arrogant in the least. Well, I suppose it depends on the situation."

"Oh poop! Please, if you got it, flaunt it baby."

"Mother," I chided.

"What? How else are you going to find some lucky little girl?"

"Yeah, I think I should settle whether or not to have that conversation with her, and Charlie…" I trembled, shaking my head.

"Yeah well I can't imagine what sort of girl you'd like me to beguile into putting up with your son."

"Oh hush you. But tell me; since we're on the subject, what would you like her to be like? Have you seen something pretty at school?" I snorted.

"No mom, I haven't." Angela was pretty I thought. But I only really wanted to earn her friendship.

"Well then? Draw me a picture Luca. What are you looking for?"

I exhaled openly, feeling put off and irate about the question. I lay back on the bed, putting my free arm behind my head and stared at the ceiling. What sort of picture should I draw for her I silently argued. She was no doubt eagerly awaiting my response on the other end of the receiver. Alright, let's go wild…

"Well, if they could be my perfect match then they would revere philosophy and art. They can be entertained by something as basic as the moon however also intriguing like Botticelli. They would love music of all genres especially the voiceless compositions of its ancestry. They would listen to Paganini, Bach, Vivaldi, Debussy, Tchaikovsky, and could effectively drift off into their timeless masterpieces.

We'd be able to speak of history for hours on end; learning from one another. I would love for them to share my passion for Shakespeare, Poe, Hemingway, and Robert Frost.

I'd want them to be gentle and kind. I would want us to protect one another and be there for whatever the other needs. We would share understanding and insight but also frivolous debates, and laughs as bright as starlight. There'd be warmth, and an unyielding desire to see and talk to each other.

I would want to wake up in the morning and for them to be the first image in my head. I should be thrilled and looking forward to seeing them as sure as the sun will rise. They'd be the one person in the entire world I would confide all my secrets too.

But most importantly," I chuckled, "they should be different. Yes, I wouldn't mind some adventure or getting my lazy bum up and out into nature. How does that saying go? I'd prefer the villain, not the hero, someone to enjoy countless mischief with. Maybe I'm reaching but that's what I honestly want."

I still beheld the ceiling. I was dazed and lost in that perfect world.

"Is there anything else? Some physical description?" Renee's interest was certainly peaked.

"Well, not really. Go ahead and call me old fashioned but it's the character that matters to me."

"Not one single thing?"

I thought about it, pursing my lips in the process. "Well, I think I like dark hair."

"Ah, I see. Okay, well maybe you're not reaching at all honey. I'd like to think everyone has someone special waiting on them. How did that old myth go? You know the one you told me about learning last year in world history?"

"According to mythology humans were once much more powerful beings compared to now. They were so mighty that the chieftain of the gods, Zeus, fearing the growing threat of a possible assault on Mt. Olympus split them all in half to appease the other god's, and in so doing condemned mortals to a life of trying to find their other half's. It was humanity's pride that caused such hardship. However, Apollo gave them new hope by sewing them up leaving the navel as the only remnant of that tear. If they ever managed to find their other half it would be a spring of understanding, serenity, and joy so few damned souls ever know. This is how Aristophanes explained love in Plato's Symposium; the very meaning of soul mates."

Renee moaned in awe on the other line. I too thought it was an interesting concept when I first heard. Many of my fellow classmates at the time especially the guy's snickered, and blew into fit of laughter thinking it was too corny.

"Well, you can think of me as a hopeless romantic but I believe that's in store for anyone if they know how to read the signs." Renee's conclusion did seem earnest. Again, I told a half-truth. There was so much more I wanted to add to the roster of things I would have enjoyed especially travelling expeditions. Perhaps frolicking through the fair streets of Verona, bathing in the exotic light of Tuscany, exploring the vast museums of Berlin, dinner by the Eiffel Tower, promenading across the Great Wall of China, and countless other excursions I dare not think of.

The affair of love made me feel blue so I changed the subject. Before ending our long call Renee told me again about the inviting beaches of Florida, trying to bait me. I appreciated the gesture but I had no intention of traversing so far east anytime soon.

After exchanging our respective "I miss you", and "I love you" I turned off the cell and retrieved some Ibuprofen from the bathroom. It always felt like a crevice somewhere you can't see, and echoed like a low rumble beneath the earth or fleeting wind forcibly brushing through the trees. I beseeched the god's to let me rouse peacefully in the morn, and with an easy head. I wish I had thought of the damn phone though.


"Oh for the sake of my collapsing sanity," I fumed at the phone alarm. "I have got to change this ringtone." It was fifteen till seven in the morning. As always I fumbled for the singing fiend that I always detested so early. After finally shutting it up and tossing it somewhere, yes well, somewhere, I sat up on the ledge of the bed. My eyes were still adjusted to the dark even after being pestered by that odious digital light.

While in the shower I thought about the conversation Renee and I had yesterday and the myth concerning that horrific fate bestowed upon humanity by the gods. I'd love to find the source where all these amazing philosophical inventions are born. I applauded all these great minds that set their ideas out to sea, like ships, sailing towards so many harbors. Each holding inspiring cargo's of treasure thereby encouraging a chain reaction assuring the conceptions of the next generation. I smiled dimly at this.

"I wish I could write something like that."

When I was refreshed and shiny I found Charlie already in the kitchen sipping coffee and reading the newspaper. I got to the stove and heated up a pan while cracking eggs over a bowl.

"You eatin' breakfast now?"

"Yeah, it is the most important meal of the day. I could use a bit more energy in the morning. Want some eggs?" Charlie folded the paper and tossed it aside hailing me with his mug.

I toasted some bread while the eggs were scrambling. Charlie liked his sunny side up which was ironic for Forks. We ate in silence for a moment before he reminded me to be mindful of the construction site again. I enjoyed the vigilance he disclosed towards me reinforcing my assertion of his physical expression of emotion being so much more powerful than his verbal presentations.

After wishing each other a successful day I climbed in the truck and turned on Jeff Buckley's Hallelujah. It was one of my favorites.

When I turned on Spartan Avenue I plucked the scaffold out from the sky. The school wore it like a tiara. There was a long and yellow flat bed truck sitting in the parking lot surrounded by slim chennelizers closing several spaces around it. Next to it stood a narrow crane lifting palettes of bright red bricks and bulky bag's of cement up to workers in orange vest's who received them.

I left the truck where it had been sitting the previous week next to the lawn. Angela received me, a camera enclosing her neck like a pendant. Jessica wasn't far behind.

"Good morning Luca," she said with the same determined kindness. "How was your first weekend?"

"Well spent, and good morning back to you too. I went to Seattle for some sightseeing and spent time with my dad." I blinked at the camera again and went on. "Getting some shots of the scaffold?"

She clasped the camera in her hands agreeing, "Yeah, for the school newspaper. We finally have something to report. It can get a bit boring here so Eric and I are glad to have something more exciting to write about for once other than horoscopes." I returned her enthusiastic smirk.

"I hope it won't go on for too long," Jessica joined in. "Although I wouldn't mind the noise cutting out Mrs. Holland's hollering." I had to agree with her there. Angela's hypothesis on Jessica was legit. Unlike last week she was overly excited and smiling at me again. I feared what might arise from this. My eyes wandered away from her and off into the distant corners of the lot. The glistening silver car was already here but I shrugged it off disinterested. I was sure that eventually my rebellious side would resurface but for the moment it had been turned moot.

The three of us strolled on through the entrance making for our lockers. Jessica was nervous about the test in English and kept reciting lines from Shakespeare, and character biographies. I accompanied her to the classroom and found Mr. Beard standing stiff like a pole with a cup of black tea I noticed written on the label in hand. We took our seats and waited.

The test wasn't bad. As announced it mostly held questions concerning Romeo & Juliet but also several about Hamlet. I was the third to finish. I held high expectations for myself when the pencil became animated, seemingly scribbling on its own accord with that terrible handwriting of mine. When the last of us finished Mr. Beard handed us permission slips to sign for our parents requesting five dollars for the next reading assignment; How to kill a Mockingbird. I grinned.

After class Jessica asked what my answers had been for a few of the questions. I guaranteed that her copious fits of anxiety were unwarranted. I matched her answer for answer. She placed her hand over her heart gasping loudly, and relieved.

Again, WHY? Why was calculus like Novocain? I felt numb, and slowly loosing the will to live. I hurried replicating Mrs. Dorothy's notes but ended up with more spiraling patterns and daisies that I even shaded along the rims of the note sheet. At the end she distributed a five page demon covered in equations.

"I think I'd rather eat a raw piece of mea... Let me stop."

Lunch went well. Jessica had ostensibly dismissed the scuffle from last week, and was quite chatty. Eric asked me about La Push and I pledged myself to the trip this Friday. The weather was supposed to be on their side for the sport, and Angela was insistent on spotting some gray whales, orcas or other cetaceans. Eric explained how the marine mammals also played key roles in Quileute stories and songs.

It took fortitude not to glance in the direction of their table but Mike kept me distracted with a Quileute ceremony he attended last April called "Welcoming the Whales". I nibbled on a slice of cucumber listening to Jessica and Angela ranting about how "absolutely cute" the otters were. I blinked off into the space, staring at nothing in particular.

I felt tired today. The fort had been substantial in repelling morning headaches. However it was the conversation I had with Renee that rewound itself over and over again like a cheap Hollywood screening that bothered me. A piece of me conceded to it while a lesser evil isolated itself away from it. I never much cared for those types of conferences with anyone even my mother. But after confiding my colorful fantasies' yesterday she should know how finicky her son truly was. It was only me though. I shaped, cut, and cooled an ideal character much like a key that unlike a key would not unlock my barricades. It wasn't my creed believing someone like that existed and even if, good luck not only finding them but recognizing them. What a heathen I am...

After lunch Mike tagged along to biology still going on about the Quileute's. I pressed the biology book and my edition of The Picture of Dorian Gray to my breast, and nearly dropped it clumsily as we entered the lab. I was scooping it back up when from the corner of my eye I noted a figure next to my seat.

"Oh shit," I grumbled. I looked to Mike pretending to be fully immersed in his story. He was seated one row ahead of me off to the right so blathering and whispering throughout class would be impossible. I stood next to his seat, beaming foolishly and still feigning to be absorbed in his narrative. Then, Mr. Banner called the class to order.

I kept my head down but noticed a significant gap between our two stools as I sat down. I placed my books at the very cliff far on the table and folded my hands beneath it.

"Alright guy's Wednesday is the big quiz. Today we're going over the five phases of mitosis and how cell division affect's the longevity of Turritopsis dohrnii. You'll be working in pairs on ten slides. I want you to give them a good look at and label them correctly. Once you're finished wait on everyone else to do the same, and keep it down. Your partner's are the people seated next to you."

"Who did I kill in a past life..."

Mr. Banner walked in-between the aisle handing out the slides while several people got up to collect microscopes. My fingers were fidgeting but ceased when the ears registered a "thump" next to me. "Well, at least he got the microscope again." I still didn't dare look up. I glimpsed longingly towards Mike and Jessica who had already started on their first slide. I wished for nothing more than to do this assignment on my own.

"Luca?" Only the severe strike of lightning could have been faster as I suddenly heard his symphonic voice which sounded shockingly tranquil, and my head spun around. The thousands of thoughts racing through my head came to a complete stop like someone had put up a roadblock.

Edward's face was free of the hostility, any sneer, and shadowy undertone beneath his eyes that I had seen last week. His face was innocent, his brow's slightly knit and questioning while the gold was rich, opulent, and brighter? I watched his right eye squint as his pillowy lips kindly grinned, "Partner's?"

Temporarily I couldn't take my eyes off of his. Last week they were fierce, somewhere between ochre and gold but now? They were like sunflowers or a burnished pair of Topazes' ingrained into the very sockets of his eyes. "S-sure," I stammered like a moron.

I took the first slide and popped it beneath the pinchers after he pushed the microscope over to me. I detected how warily his meager exercise was but also how his stool was inclined in my direction. I scanned the slide and found my mouth very operational but my voice flat.

"You know my name?" The ribs in my chest were inconveniencing the rising climax my heart was going for. I couldn't think of anything else conducive to say.

"I think everyone knows your name new guy." The sudden shift in attitude was startling to say the least – the flow of his words alluring. There was even one faint humor-filled laugh before he answered.

"Prophase," I responded. Edward's notebook lay neatly in front of him. I watched him accurately printing it using a beautiful cursive. He caught my gaze.

"Do you mind if I take a look?" Again, this seemingly and newly acquired courteous character jolted me. I shook my head. He smiled sliding the microscope over to him.

"Prophase," he declared only after a second of examination.

"I know," I sniffed, trying to be casual but being no more audible than a mouse. A playful smirk spread over his face after I said it. There was an unreadable expression of curiosity that enveloped his intense stare. A weird mixture of sorts; ingredients I found elusive.

I reached for another slide and handed it to him. I watched how carefully he handled it between his fingers, and with the same notion handing me the previous one. If I didn't know any better I think he was trying to avoid physical contact.

"At the risk of deviating away off duty, I would like to apologize for my boorish behavior last Thursday." He looked through the eyepiece. What a classical way of putting it I thought, alongside a resourceful vocabulary.

"I didn't do anything to offend you did I? I mean, I'm usually not that opposing." Again, his pouted lips painted a crooked grin.

"You are anything but Mr. Swan, and it's metaphase." He looked up; a lustrous gleam in his eye's holding me in place. Had I foreseen this encounter I might have dissented any hair care product so I could have used my bangs as a curtain instead of being swept up off to the side.

"Do you mind if I take a look?" I hadn't finished the question and he was already pushing over the microscope – smirking yet again.

As I peered through he went on, "I hadn't been feeling pleasant that day. I blame it on lack of sleep but I still think I could have offered you a better greeting. So, as far as proper introductions go I'd like to make another effort now - my name is Edward Cullen."

"Metaphase," I smiled weakly at him.

"I know," he said with sheer confidence. "Buuurrrn." I sat up in the chair as he scrawled away.

"In that case let me return the context of what you just said, my name is Luca Swan." I replaced the slides. At great personal peril I peeped over again. I labeled his legs for not being as slender as his blond brothers. They were better defined, and although shielded by tight dark blue jeans I distinguished the femur and curve of his thighs.

"Are you enjoying the curriculum?" I flashed back to meet his gaze, but found him not just looking into my eyes but observing my entire face; an unfathomable dissatisfaction had overridden his previous intensity.

"Seriously?" I risked a dry laugh. Edward returned that laugh, shifting his head to the side.

"What would you like me to inquire about then? Unless of course you think I'm disturbing you."

"Prophase again, and try me." There was a sudden flicker of change in emotion but he quickly recovered his composure.

"I'll take that overture. Why did you move here?" I sighed, noticeably, smacking my lips.

"It's a long story." He looked up from the microscope and presented me with a pending glance. "Alright, alright a quick synopsis then."

"My mother remarried and since my stepfather travel's allot I proposed she should go with him since I had been wanting to spent some time with my real dad here in Forks anyway." I paid strict attention to his reaction. I could see he considered my answer, his eyes squinting and his smile disappearing. We traded slides again.

"That was very selfless of you. Is there another reason why?"

"If there is it isn't that important. But I really did want more time with my dad." I watched him lazily scope out the slide like he was utterly bored with it.

"Anaphase, would you like to take a look?" I turned down his offer with a quick wave.

"No, I think you know the phases as well as I." I slid the remaining tray of slides over to him.

"Are you pessimistic of being so far from home?" Edward scribbled another answer down on paper.

"No, I mean, it was my decision to move here. My mother loves to travel and since I craved a change of scenery it was like opportunity knocked for the both of us. But I think she knew before I offered her the chance."

"I see," he surmised, "How is it she knew?"

"Renee, my mother, she has always had this bothersome dexterity of being able to read me completely." I watched the sunflower gold of his eyes darken, feebly.

"In that case take luxury in knowing that I cannot."

I managed my thoughts after being dispersed by that last comment. There was an incredible connotation latched to it. It was the same exasperation I had seen in his face before when he studied me. What was it that he sought to find?

Mr. Banner was making a round through the aisle's watching his pupil stress over the task. I wondered how hopeful he was concerning good marks on this big quiz. Edward and I sat in silence. Occasionally I peeked and was reminded of his clenched fist that he drew like a medieval saber yet again.

I was becoming enthralled by the boy next to me. The V shape of his upper torso wrapped in a deep red like wine pullover was intimidating to me; the muscles though smaller than Emmett's were still molded athletically well, and along the inner lining of the pullover painted hills of red. The garment also brought out the hidden streaks of auburn in his untidy dark hair as it graced over the side of his temple. It was a suitable match to the olive complexion of his frame.

"So you guys," Mr. Banner addressed us, "Did the two of you just divide them up or work on it together?"

"Both," Edward replied charmingly.

"Aha. Luca I assume you did the lab on the five phases of Mitosis back home in your advanced course?"

"I did," I said too smugly, "But I did read about them before but didn't fully understand until the lab."

Mr. Banner assented and stalked off to the table next to us. I was scowling at the clock, roughly twenty minutes had passed. It dragged on and on I thought. By my reckoning it should be later. It was just like last week; a wormhole formed in our space time continuum that teleported me an hour ahead into the future while I pierced his penetrating gaze. However today, the river of time was frozen.

"You read a book about mitosis?" Edward was appraising me, I could tell, his speech was slow and his eyes still searched with that same dissatisfaction.

"Not just mitosis no, it was a book about genetics and cellular activity," I frowned sounding lame.

"You enjoy reading." It wasn't an assumption, he said it matter-of-factly.

"Yeah," I said sheepishly, "I suppose I enjoy the company of the dead to tha-," I fearfully shrunk in my chair as he unexpectedly hissed at me.

"What?"

I gripped the front of the table with both hands. An electric current set the blood in my fingers on fire as they dug into the smooth top. I felt aghast by this sudden cry. I bit my bottom lip to keep it from shaking. I knew that in this very moment he must have detected the vulnerability my eyes always radiated. Edward's facial muscles relaxed and became soft instantly, and he drew both of his clutching fists together and crossed his arms. I didn't understand his sudden agitation.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to alarm you. All I really meant to implore was what you meant by that sentiment."

Gradually I began to breathe again, and for the first time sampled an exquisite essence on my taste buds. It drifted up through my nasal cavity where I could fully appreciate the fragrance. I discerned the scent of lavender, strawberry, chamomile, and something that reminded me of sunshine in the summer.

"W-what I meant was that my favorite authors are already dead. I think that literature fifty to one-hundred years ago was much more stimulating than today. I'm sorry if it came out wrong." As I spoke Edward had leaned a fraction more towards me, and that fraction proved imperative as I identified the origin of the perfume – it was him.

"No. There isn't need for you to be apologetic. I was being provocative."

"To what end?"

I think it was deliberate as he blinked pompously, and caught me in his impenetrable vision.

"So I may conceive an idea as what to do with you, Little Devil."