DISCLAIMER: First and foremost, I would like to EMPHASIZE that I DO NOT own Twilight - Stephenie Meyer does. Secondly, this fan fiction was written purely for the purpose of entertainment and will not be used for monetary profit. Lastly, I am all for constructive criticism. However, if you're just here to comment on how much you HATE Twilight or that I'm an awful person for replacing Bella, please don't bother.
A/N: I would like to send a great big THANKS to my Beta (Angel of the Night Watchers) for taking this on.
Hope you enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW!
Chapter 4:
The soft, consistent pitter-patter of misting raindrops on the roof was the calming ambiance that woke me the next morning. Though the light weaving through the thick olive-toned curtains was the dim, gray sunshine of an overcast day, the long tendrils spilling lazily over my comforter were warm and inviting. A quick peek at the glowing numbers on my clock showed that I was only ten minutes earlier in stirring that I should have been. Not wanting the clanging racket of timely rising to disturb the peace I felt, I flipped the switch off and lay basking in the slender finger of illumination crawling ever higher over the bed to gently touch my face.
Closing my eyes contentedly, I imagined how I must look lying face up on the bed, comforter pulled up to mid-chest, pale sunlight dancing playfully over my porcelain face, warming my skin to add hints of cherry color to cheekbones, nose, and forehead. Something like the fairytale image of Snow White, I'd wager. All I needed now was a glass coffin and a handsome prince to come kiss me awake.
From out of nowhere, my mind conjured a Prince Charming in glorious white and gold splendor with a red cape and bronze hair leaning over my imagined Snow White. Only when his face was turned to profile did I realize that it was Edward; his hair blazing fiery in the dim light, eyes the same metallic shade as the gold threading in his clothing.
Before the self-written fairytale could proceed along the predetermined plotline, I giggled – couldn't help it. Out of all the men I'd seen in my entire life, counting movie stars and such, my early-morning bedraggled brain had chosen Edward Cullen as the epitome of all things desirable.
The sound of my laughter, absent the usual taint of cynicism or sarcasm, was heartening. I couldn't remember the last time I'd laughed for no other reason than that I found something amusing. Rare as it was, I relished the sound. It was a perfect way to start the morning.
Humming quietly to myself, I went through my morning routine.
It wasn't until I had emerged from my room – clothes on, backpack ready, shoes in hand – that I began to feel nervous. So much had changed in the last two days. Three days ago, I had been living my life by rote rather than actually experiencing it. I hadn't had any attachments that meant anything to me. There had been nothing here that I would have lamented the loss of. All of my secrets could have been laid bare for the entire town to see and my only regret would have been the need to leave the country again.
Now everything was different. Today, I stood in a completely new place. For the first time in more than a half-century I had something binding me here to this place, and it wasn't captivity or survival instinct. It was me, plain and simple. No matter how far I ran or how long I lived for, an integral part of me – of my heart and, possibly, my soul – would always be tied here. Tied to Julia Howard. Just as parts of me would always linger in France and Italy.
Standing in the living room, I finally came to grips with reality. I had something – someone – to live for now. I had something worth fighting for. It was a foreign concept to me – the desire, the need to stay close to someone because I loved them. I realized, in that moment, that I would give anything I had, and possibly that which I didn't, to stay. And that was dangerous … very dangerous.
"Heading out already?" Julia was standing at the foot of the stairs watching my stationery form.
I jumped, having been so engrossed in my self-revelations that I hadn't heard her descent, "Not quite." I held up my shoes as answer and lowered my backpack to the couch so I could proceed with their donning.
"Are you feeling better?" Julia joined me on the couch and reached out to check my temperature.
"Yeah, actually. The shower helped with the soreness." I paused to let her gauge my warmth then preceded with tying the laces of my boots.
"That's good. I'm glad. If you want, though, I can send you with some Tylenol just in case."
"No, I should be fine." I smiled reassuringly at her and glanced toward the clock over the mantle. The time surprised me. I wouldn't have to leave for another fifteen minutes. My good mood must have expedited my routine.
"Okay." She patted my knee and rose from the couch, angling toward the kitchen and the ever-reliable coffee machine.
I followed her, leaving my bag on the cushions, and watched her add copious amounts of cream and sugar to her chocolate-flavored coffee.
"I'll bet your friends will be happy to see you today. I'm sure they've been worried." Julia's back was to me, so she didn't see me stiffen at the mention of friends.
"Yeah, I'm sure." The answer was forced but my nervous tone fit well enough to not raise suspicion.
For the first time since I'd seen his charmingly appealing face in my makeshift fairytale, I thought about Edward Cullen. He'd had two days without interference from me to spread whatever tales and gossip he wanted. What would I find, when I finally got to school? Would he have stuck to the tamed-down version of events that he'd insisted upon at the hospital or would he have started elaborating … specifying? My pulse was starting to race. Was I walking into a trap? I had no idea what kind of people the Cullens were. Could I trust them not to reveal what they thought they knew?
"Is something the matter, honey?" Julia had stopped prepping her coffee and was giving me a worriedly-inquisitive look.
"No, I'm fine. I was just thinking …" I needed to be careful here. She'd seemed fairly close to Dr. Cullen the other night and she did work with him on a regular basis. As such, she'd have a better insight into their nature than I would. "… about the Cullens."
"What about them?" She went back to her coffee, seemingly unconcerned with my curiosity.
"Well … I was just curious about them. I mean, Edward saved my life and all. He seems like a nice enough person," despite his peculiar … abilities, "It's just … the Cullens don't seem to have many friends …." I let my voice trail off as though I was embarrassed to be bringing up their seclusion.
Julia made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat – something I'd never heard from her before, "People in this town are so … xenophobic. Just because the Cullens didn't come from here, people automatically think they're strange." She put the creamer back in the refrigerator with a little more force than was strictly necessary, "Just because they stick to themselves, people have to talk."
Time to backpedal, "The kids all seem really smart and they're very good looking …." I was trying to sound more complimentary, hoping it would help her be a little less riled.
It worked. She let out a low, throaty chuckle, "Well, you saw Dr. Cullen …" She let the name trail off suggestively, "It's a good thing he's happily married. Most of the nurses have a hard time concentrating when he's around."
I smiled invitingly, "I'm sure."
"Charlie – Chief Swan, I mean – was a little worried when the doctor moved in – what with all those teenagers. But not a one of them have caused any sort of trouble. Overall, our community is very lucky to have them. Dr. Cullen is a great man – a great surgeon – and we're fortunate his wife wanted to live in a small town. I'm sure the larger hospitals in LA and such wanted him pretty badly." She sipped at her coffee and took a seat at the table.
"He seems so young to be a doctor." Dr. Cullen wasn't my primary concern but, considering the inkling I'd gotten about the doctor's 'in-the-know' status, I was open to hearing about his character.
"He is. Even younger when you think how they've taken care of those kids. Esme and Carlisle are very good people – much like Alex and Stephenie were. They're caring, compassionate people and they are absolutely devoted to those kids." She smiled warmly.
"That's really great. I can't understand why the kids at school seem to ignore them …."
"It's probably just that they stick to themselves. They aren't busy-bodies – like a lot of the people I know around here."
"Probably." I glanced at the microwave and sighed, "I'd better go. Don't want to be late."
"Have a good day. I'll see you at dinner, hun." She patted the back of my hand once and then went back to drinking her opulently exotic coffee.
The T-Bird wasn't too badly damaged in the wreck. The old-style steel frame held up better than that of the relatively new van Tyler had been driving. Opening the trunk was now an impossibility and the rear tires and brake lights had needed replacing but, other than that, it was drivable. I didn't mind the scuffed and scratched paint, though I knew Alex would have pitched a fit if he'd been around to see it. Julia had offered to let me drive her car until mine was fixed, but I didn't see a point in depriving her of transportation. It wasn't until later that I realized that she might just want an excuse to drive my Porsche for a few days ….
When I got to school, I pulled around to the back end of the lot and parked without realizing that I was in the same spot I'd been in the morning of the accident. There were still shards of glass scattered across the asphalt and the telltale black skid-marks left by the van's tires. I tried not to think about what impulse had driven me to park in that exact spot.
Until that morning, I hadn't understood just how uncomfortable being the center of attention for almost four-hundred people could be. From the moment I exited my vehicle, I was bombarded with questions about the accident by nearly everyone in school. It wasn't until I was seated in my second period class that I realized I didn't view the persistent inquiries in as annoying a light as I might once have. I did, however, wish they would stop. I was willing and ready to connect with Julia on a more personal level … not so much with everyone else.
In my experience, the quickest way to make people bored with whatever new gossip had sprung up was to tell the same mundane story over and over again with as few details as possible. Therefore, I stuck to this mantra. I told everyone that I didn't really remember much. I'd been standing next to my car talking to Edward and that he must have pushed me out of the way. The next thing I knew, I woke up in the hospital. That was it. Nothing more to say.
The problem was; no one else seemed to have seen Edward next to me until after the van had been pulled away. This was worrisome. Why was it that no one else had noticed him standing across the lot by his car?
It wasn't until Jessica had exclaimed her surprise at seeing the paramedics lead Edward out from behind the totaled van for the fifth time that I finally understood. No one else was as aware of Edward as I always was. Not a single other person in the school watched him like I did. For all intents and purposes, the Cullen children had become invisible to their peers. Their self-imposed ostracism had been so successful that not even their staggeringly overwhelming beauty overcame it.
From the moment I arrived, I had been eagerly listening to accounts of the accident from other students. There wasn't a single version that seemed to take place from other than a spectator's viewpoint. It was remarkable to me that, curious as everyone seemed to be, no one had gone so far as to ask Edward what had happened. Instead, they had all impatiently waited for me and Tyler to return to school. Even the teachers seemed enthusiastic for details. Surely the faculty wasn't intimidated by the Cullens enough to avoid asking for Edward's account ….
Fourth period would be the first truly relevant test of Edward's integrity. It was the first class of the day which I shared with a member of his family. When I walked in, I quickly scanned the room for Alice Cullen. She was in her usual seat – far back left corner – staring intently at her workbook. She didn't look up when I took my seat several desks away. This was unusual and somewhat disturbing. Alice had shown at least some level of interest in me ever since the second day of school, though she'd never come right out and spoken to me.
By the time the tardy bell had rung, she still hadn't acknowledged my presence. Her amber eyes followed a direct, unwavering path from her workbook up to the chalkboard. It was almost as though she were unaware of there being anyone else in the room besides herself and the teacher.
I suppose, in Alice's actions, I had my confirmation of Edward's character. If he'd been spreading lies and rumors about, his sister would likely have been among the first to receive them. Her disinterest revealed that he'd kept our unspoken pact. He hadn't said anything more to anyone else. However, I was certain that he'd mentioned something to his father.
Even with all but irrefutable proof of Edward's continued silence, I couldn't help watching Alice throughout the lesson. Some part of me expected her to turn and denounce me at any moment, not that I would have blamed her for doing so.
This near-constant surveillance brought some interesting things to light, however. Alice had a very peculiar way of sitting. She seemed to remain perfectly motionless for minute-long intervals and then, very deliberately, she would fidget. The actions, though not outwardly distracting, seemed forced. The girl's alabaster face never shifted in expression and yet her position would change. It almost looked as though she were moving only because it was expected for her to do so.
Much to my embarrassment, I found Tyler Crowley lingering outside of the classroom when I emerged. He seemed intent on making amends for the accident in some way. He sat at our now-crowded lunch table, despite Mike and Eric's coldness toward him. This apparent rivalry worried me. I wasn't eager to gain another unknowing suitor. I could see being casual friends with a number of my companions. However, romantic interests were still well beyond the purview I intended to allow.
Discretion was key during lunch periods. There were already whispers about the 'lingering gazes' Edward and I had engaged in earlier that week. I didn't need those rumors to be worsened by my actions. Be that as it may, I couldn't refrain from casting surreptitious glances toward that now familiarly distant table. I was trying to see if the other Cullens had that same forced way of moving – as though it wasn't what came natural to them.
This proved difficult as my attention was constantly being claimed by one or another of my companions. Conversation topics all revolved around my miraculous survival. Jessica was the most adamant for details. After repeated insistence of ignorance on my part, she's given up on getting a more up-close and personal account of the accident. She did, however, manage to catch me off guard. I had been telling everyone that I'd been standing by my car talking to Edward before Tyler's van had swerved toward us. This minor facet hadn't been particularly relevant to a majority of my audience. To Jessica, on the other hand, this was of vital importance.
"What were you and Edward talking about, anyway?" Her voice held a note of deep curiosity.
The question had caught me off guard. Her previous sentence hadn't led into this one. "What?"
"Before the van hit you. What were you talking about?" Her tone now carried a thick layer of irritation. I had the vaguest impression that Jessica enjoyed my inexplicable popularity more than my actual presence, which didn't seem to bother me as much as it once had.
"Oh … I don't really remember …." This wasn't something I had put a lot of thought in to. Moreover, I hadn't corroborated with Edward – not that I was truly concerned she would check with him.
Jessica's lips pursed – a sure sign of disbelief.
Time to think fast, "I think he was trying to apologize." Apologize?
"For what?" She leaned toward me and flicked a glance at the back of Edward's head.
"Uh … for something he said during biology the other day. It's not important …." I hoped she would drop it. I wasn't going to go into details.
"Oh." She sounded disappointed.
After that debacle, I was free to study to Cullens for a few moments as Jessica launched into a second-by-second description of what she'd seen during the accident. In an oddly content manner, I was grateful for her spotlight-nabbing. I wasn't comfortable being the center of attention over this incident. The sooner people forgot it, the better.
A series of covert examinations later, I was beginning to feel a little uneasy. All of the Cullens seemed to share that same strange mechanical feeling to their movements, as though they were done for an observer's benefit rather than their own. Contrarily, despite the full trays of food resting on the tabletop in front of each, they never ate or drank anything. They didn't even appear to be speaking to one another.
Mike and Angela stuck close to my side as I walked from the cafeteria to biology. He was attempting to commiserate with me over the ruined snow, the weather had edged toward the warmer half of the near-freezing spectrum since the morning of the accident. According to the weatherman, that brief flurry would be the only one this season. I tried to sound regretful that he hadn't had the opportunity to stage a world-ending snowball fight in the school parking lot but I don't think I succeeded. Frankly, I was quite pleased that the possibility of being pelted with mushy lumps of mostly-frozen water was quashed.
Walking in the door and catching sight of the muted winter sunlight dancing among the casually disarrayed strands of Edward's auburn hair made me smile. Having spent large portions of my day repeating the counterfeit story of his off-handed rescue to numerous people, I'd slowly become more and more grateful to the peculiar, handsome boy who'd saved me. My former irritation with his lingering mysteriousness had faded to be replaced by a deep thankfulness and respect. This unexpected gratitude had, in no way, diminished my curiosity with regards to his previous unnatural actions. However, I found that suspicion had given way to intrigue.
Once close enough, I greeted him politely, hoping to convey through my tone how appreciative I was. Moreover, the simple statement was meant to illustrate my willingness to stick to our hitherto unspoken truce. "Hello Edward."
I'd expected more of a reaction from him than I'd gotten. His head angled a fraction of an inch in my direction and dipped into a curt nod. Never once did his eyes stray in my direction. Not a single syllable did he utter. From that point on, I earned less recognition than an errant breath of wind would have.
Life went on in this same manner for weeks. Between school and Julia, there was never enough of a respite to re-erect the formerly insurmountable barriers I'd once enjoyed the protection of. As such, I'd found myself acting in ways I hadn't entertained in decades. Without the constant urge to hide behind those social and emotional walls, I somehow reverted back to the girl I'd been before tragedy and reality had inserted themselves firmly into my everyday life. Conversation and bantering came easier, though still providing ample opportunity for awkwardness on my part. In the absence of the overwhelming baggage I'd lugged on my shoulders for years, I allowed myself to relax. I made great efforts to be more polite to my companions in both actions and thought – though, at times, the later still proved difficult. Happiness came more readily when I wasn't putting all my efforts towards keeping everyone at arm's length. Remembering the names and faces of my lunchtime crowd became second nature. I could recognize, if not name, all the students and staff at the school. Even members of the community were becoming familiar. In short, I assimilated into the general population without having consciously made the effort.
Not everything was sunshine and daisies, however. Although I was on friendlier terms with my peers, I wasn't fool enough to try to push for closer intimacies. There was never even a glimmer of possibility in my mind that our camaraderie could ever be more than casual – unwillingly superficial on my part. It wasn't that I didn't want to build stronger relationships with them. The truth was that I simply couldn't get closer to them. Because what I was – or, more importantly, wasn't – couldn't be explained or reasoned away. We were too different to ever allow for actual understanding and acceptance.
Bleak as my friendship possibilities were, they were the least of my issues during the month following the accident. Most prevalent among these were those revolving solely around Edward Cullen. The trivializing attitude he'd displayed toward me upon my return to school hadn't abated. Despite sitting beside me every single day in biology, he showed no more notice of me than he did anyone else. Verbal interactions were limited to subject-matter-based topics during in-class labs. Even these were terse and uncomfortable.
Regardless of the relief my more-logical mind felt at his distance, I was miserable. I couldn't help feeling hurt by his baseless shunning. I'd upheld my end of our unspoken pact flawlessly – having never elaborated or exaggerated any aspect of his involvement in the matter. Still, he treated me as though I were a pariah. This was all a direct result of the accident we'd been in – that was the only conclusion I could come to. Emotionally masochistic, I began to suspect that his continued coolness had less to do with what we'd both witnessed and agreed not to disclose, and more to do with some deep-seeded regret he harbored about rescuing me. More than anything else, this was frustrating and painful. I couldn't understand how he felt justified in holding me responsible for his lapse in judgment. It wasn't as though he'd been somehow required to intervene on my behalf.
Despite this rejection – perhaps even due to it, in part – I found myself unable to ignore him. Contrary to everything I tried, I couldn't help but become more and more interested in him. During the long weeks of enforced silence, I watched him. I understood, on some level, that my interest in him was unhealthy – for both of us. Even so, I was unable to stop myself. I'd always had a curious personality – hence the multitude of college degrees I'd collected over the years – and being presented with such an attractive and guarded mystery as he embodied was irresistible. So, as circumspectly as I could, I continued to examine his every action while doing my best to appear as aloof and disinterested as he was.
Regardless of this near-constant scrutiny, the mystery surrounding Edward and his siblings never lessened. Quite the opposite, in fact – it deepened, became more elusive. So much about the Cullens was off. Some things could be explained away while others could not. The peculiarities ranged from the mundane to the exotic – touching on every level in between. Part of the intractable mystery stemmed from the inherent contradiction between different aspects of the same behavior. Without anything more than substandard inspections made in fleeting, stolen moments of anonymity, I couldn't coalesce any of the data I gathered into a viable conclusion. Either the Cullens were hiding something or I had managed to inflame my imagination past all bounds of common sense. The problem was: I couldn't decide which of those two scenarios was most likely.
There were so many things – big and small – that, individually, would have gone unnoticed but, collectively, stood out as something more than coincidence. Beyond the implausible physical perfection displayed by every member of the family I had yet seen, there were other facets of their secluded existence which warranted notice.
Their utter lack of appetite seemed uninteresting when compared to the more unusual morphic color-shifting of their eyes. Many people, myself included, disliked school food. Their lackadaisical attitude toward the meager offerings could easily have been preference for home cooking. The eyes were another, inexplicable conundrum. At nearly regular intervals, their eyes would take on a warm, liquid, honey-gold color. Then, over the course of the next two weeks, that vivid fantastical hue would fade to a midnight black. I'd quickly dismissed the notion of contact lenses being the culprit of this mystery. If that were the case, their eyes would be one color when they wore the lenses and a wholly different color when they weren't. No lenses would adjust their color through the entire intervening spectrum and then miraculously revert to their original hue. Most eye colors had some minor tendency to shift slightly based on temperament and wardrobe – my own dark hazel often displayed this characteristic. However, the sweeping variety of shades between the two extremes marked the transformation as unnatural.
Their movement was a paradox in and of itself. From that first day after the accident, I'd taken notice of their peculiar, mechanical fidgeting. Normally, this could be assumed to be mere clumsiness – an adolescent propensity. However, the saying about assumptions held true in this case. Whenever the Cullens were in motion there was a certain overt grace to their movements. Even the males had an exceptional fluidity to their actions. The girls, particularly, always looked as though they could flawlessly flow into dance at any second without conscious thought. Perhaps their polish was a result of professional dance training – their father was, after all, a wealthy doctor. The only problem with this assessment was that it didn't quite fit. My own bearing had been commented upon multiple times in the past, mostly by dance instructors or partners. While I'd attributed the quality to my training, it wasn't actually the case. My elegance was bred from nearly a century of familiarity with my body, something few people ever achieved. And, like me, the Cullens seemed to simply know their bodies.
All of this could have been explained away, if I had not fallen victim to tedium in biology class. Ever since the accident Edward's silence had been routine. He sat beside me every day and yet as far from me as the desk would allow. He never took notes, simply sat with one hand resting on his leg and the other on the tabletop. During one of Mr. Banner's less enthusiastic lectures, I took to watching Edward's movements from behind the veil of hair I typically kept between us. For some reason – impending mania, perhaps – I felt the urge to time his fidgets. The results were disturbing. His squirming took place at nearly perfect three minute intervals. At first, I was willing to dismiss this observation as a product of both our boredoms – mine in keeping track in the first place; his in possibly timing the movements to stay awake. Unfortunately, I realized that most people did not possess the patience to precisely time their movements. Furthermore, if he was keeping time out of boredom, he should slip up from time to time – involuntarily twitch too soon. He never did.
The last oddity took a long time for me to identify. Edward, at times, seemed almost omniscient. Considering Mr. Banner's opinion I was unquestionably certain that Edward was extremely intelligent. In addition, most teachers were very predictable. I tried to excuse away my nagging suspicions by attributing him an unconventional power of observation. Perhaps, like me, he was simply good at reading body language and tone. He couldn't be telepathic.
Overall, concern and contemplation of Edward and his family took up a majority of my worrying. Even so, there were other, less worrisome topics to ponder. Mike Newton in particular. I could tell, from the start, that he was hoping for more than a basic camaraderie. This wouldn't have been an issue, were it not for the pair of four-hundred pound gorillas in the room …. Firstly, I wasn't even slightly interested. Being in a romantic relationship with anyone was way out of the question. I could accept family and friends. Taking a lover, however, would be cruel not only to them but also to me. Besides, a beau could learn more about me than he should … resulting, inevitably, in my exposure.
The second issue stemmed from a petite, curly-haired brunette named Jessica Stanley.
Since the first lunch I'd spent at the table, I'd noticed the longing glances she'd aimed in Mike's direction. My suspicions were confirmed when, in the second week in March, she'd cornered me after school to ask my permission on a related matter. For weeks, she and Lauren had been talking of little else besides the Sadie Hawkins' Dance scheduled for the last Saturday of the month. It was the sole Girls' Choice event of the school year and she'd wanted to make sure I wasn't planning on asking Mike.
I encouraged her to ask him.
"Are you sure? You weren't planning to ask him?" Her tone made it quite clear that she would view that act as a declaration of war.
"No, Jess. I'm not planning on attending." I smiled brightly at her, hoping to convey my honesty through expression as well as tone. Even had I been interested in attending the dance, I wouldn't have been stupid enough to ask Mike Newton. High school girls could turn vicious whenever a boy's attentions were in question. More than likely, I would have attended alone so as not to encourage any form of pursuit.
"It'll be lots of fun …." Her attempt to persuade me was half-hearted at best, not that it mattered to me.
"You have fun with Mike."
Unfortunately, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions …. In English the next morning, Jessica wasn't her usual bubbly self. Conversely, she would barely speak two words to me and thoroughly avoided meeting my eyes. Suspicion flared over the cause of my newest eschewing. All things considered, there was only one facet between us that would result in her social recoil from me – Mike Newton. The uncomfortable, deer-in-the-headlights look on his boyish face throughout the period was disheartening. I had known of his growing fascination for weeks but had not thought him far gone enough to reject Jessica's attentions on the off chance he could garner some favor from me. Never in all the time of our acquaintance had I encouraged his pursuit – quite the opposite, in fact. However, if he'd turned her down in the hopes I was waiting in the wings, the burgeoning friendships I'd begun cultivating here would be in jeopardy.
This nagging worry nestled in the pit of my stomach was only added to during lunch. Jessica's usual seat was positioned, conveniently, directly between me and Mike. Today, however, she took a seat on the opposite side of the table next to Eric and Lauren. Apparently committed to demonstrating her allure, she engaged Eric in deep conversation; using her full repertoire of flirtatious body language to illustrate exactly what it was Mike was missing out on. Her intended audience sat glumly next to me, looking as though he wished he were anywhere other than where he was. Throughout the entire hour-long lunch period, Jessica never once spoke to either of us.
Over the last few weeks of stony silence between me and my lab partner, Mike had taken to perching on the edge of my table before biology started. In the beginning, I could tell that he'd been worried I would be impressed by Edward's daring parking-lot rescue. However, the obvious coolness that had settled between us seemed to please Mike. Per habit, Mike rarely took his seat before the tardy bell rang. Preferring, instead, to chat animatedly with me over whatever trivial matter was occupying his attentions; ignoring my lab partner as thoroughly as he ignored us.
My expectations of this afternoon's discussion were different. His uneasy silence during lunch confirmed that he was bracing himself to say something unpleasant. Without cue, I was certain the subject would revolve around the ominous end-of-month dance. I'd taken my seat and begun unloading my books before he broached the subject.
"So …," his pitch was higher than normal – a sure sign of stress, "Jessica asked me to the Spring Dance …."
"Really? That's great. I'm sure you'll have a good time with her." I didn't have to work to make my tone sound pleased and encouraging. In all honesty, I wanted nothing more than for this boy's fixation to shift to the anticipatory Jessica Stanley.
Awkward silence followed my statement and I looked up from my bag to examine his expression. Grim – that was an accurate description. Evidently, my enthusiasm was being viewed as problematic.
"Well … I told her I'd have to think about it."
Ah, so I'd been right. He was holding out for me. Deep down, I was grateful that he hadn't given a flat-out refusal – it would be impossible to scavenge the remnants of blossoming friendship under those conditions. Unfortunately, the dominant emotion I experienced was chagrin. It was unfathomable to me that this boy seemed oblivious to my disinterest. Congeniality was not the same thing as attraction.
I let disapproval color my voice as I raised an incredulous eyebrow at him, "Think about what? What is there to think about?"
Color flooded his cherubic cheeks and his shoulders slouched slightly, "Well, I was kind of wondering if you were planning to ask me."
Without conscious command, my teeth claimed my lower lip and worried the sensitive flesh between them. I had to be careful here. This boy's ill-guided pursuit didn't justify infliction of pain through the revelation of blunt truthfulness. However, I had to make certain to discourage his questing.
"Look, Mike," I tried to keep my voice neutral, "I think you ought to go with Jessica."
Defiance flashed in his blue eyes as he met mine, "Why? Have you already asked someone else?" His tone turned belligerent as his gaze shifted over my shoulders to stab at Edward's back.
From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a shift in Edward's position – his head was angled more clearly in our direction, as though he were casually listening to the discussion. Had he noticed Mike's unsheltered glare?
"No." I made my tone flat and irrefutable, "I'm not attending the dance."
"Why not?" His tone turned petulant.
Where, oh where was the teacher when I needed him? If only he would magically poof to the front of the classroom and begin the lecture, I could get out from under this uncomfortable situation without needing to supply an excuse. I didn't think explaining my actual reasoning for not attending the dance was a good idea. Therefore, I quickly scanned through my head, seeking a round-about method of avoiding the truth.
"I'm going to be in Seattle that weekend." Before that moment, I had had no intention of taking a trip. Now, however, it seemed like a perfect time to take my car for a drive and disappear from sight for a few days. I could take care of some of the business I'd been forced to neglect while in Forks.
"Seattle? Can't you go on some other weekend?" Pleading didn't lend itself very well to him.
I shot down the spasm of guilt that tried to force itself out of my gut and shook my head, letting my face take on a resolved cast, "Unfortunately, no. I have some stuff to take care of …." I let my voice trail off as though I would rather not discuss said business with anyone.
"It can't wait for another weekend? This is the only dance besides Prom this semester."
"Yeah, I know that. I simply can't put this off any longer. I've needed to handle it since the accident …." Pain tinged the edges of my tone. Part of it was even genuine. I didn't like using Alex and Steph's deaths as an excuse to get out of attending a social event. It felt like a betrayal. Moreover, there were, in fact, aspects of their affairs to which I needed to attend.
"The …? Oh." He looked away uncomfortably.
"Yes, well …," I straightened my back, "Like I said, you'll have fun with Jessica. You shouldn't keep her waiting any longer, though. It's quite rude."
"Yeah, I guess." He slouched off back to his own table without meeting my eyes.
For the briefest of seconds, my inner Good Samaritan tried to trump my practical side. Causing anyone pain, whether emotional or physical, was something I'd never grown accustomed to. Having experienced more than my fair share of both, I preferred leaving that task to other instigators. Fighting down the urge to apologize to Mike for letting him down, I buried my face in my hands and took a few deep breaths. This was the right thing to do – the proper avenue to travel. Feeling guilty wouldn't change that.
Mr. Banner began the lecture at that instant and I raised my head from my hands. In more than six weeks, I'd grow accustomed to being treated as though I were part of the furniture – or worse, the permanent construction. Familiarity hadn't bred contentment but rather acceptance – there was little I could do about being overlooked and trivialized. Surprisingly, when I at last opened my eyes, I found Edward Cullen staring at me – his eyes tending toward the onyx end of the varying spectrum today.
I blinked, half expecting this to be some figment of my imagination – a cruel form of revenge for having denied Mike's advances. Staggeringly, this did nothing. Edward's eyes stayed locked on mine. As I stared into the abyssal depths, trying to understand the vaguely curious expression playing out on the idyllic features surrounding them, I lost track of reality. My world condensed sharply to focus on only two things; the minutest of necessary functions within my own physical form and the intensity smoldering in the eyes of the most perplexing Prince Charming ever to have been imagined into existence.
Sound, touch, taste, and smell faded from being; the remaining void filling instead with the suddenly swelling awareness of sight and unfocused thought. For all I knew, the entire school could have burst into flames, their destructive fingers ravaging my skin, and I wouldn't have noticed. Nothing else existed save for Edward's eyes. There was no question of my looking away first. The ability to do so had been eradicated along with the rest of my cognitive processes.
When at last his eyes released me, all the faculties I'd misplaced came flooding back.
"The Krebb Cycle." His voice, soft and disinterested, answered a question which I had not even heard.
Free of the overwhelming strength of his gaze, I forced mine down to the small printed words on the page in front of me. My heart was beating erratically and I found I was having difficulty in pulling in a full breath. Once able to feel something besides wonder and confusion, I became irritated with myself. There had been no reason in the world for me to have allowed myself to respond to him that way. Just because he'd looked at me for the first time in over a month didn't give me license to abandon decorum and control.
Not sure what to make of the occurrence, I decided to try to ignore it. I was quite used to pretending like I wasn't aware of every shift of his body, every breath he took ….
That's quite enough! I worked diligently at taking notes and acting as though nothing out of the ordinary had taken place.
When Mr. Banner finally dismissed us – five minutes before the bell – I turned my back to Edward as I gathered my books together. My irritation hadn't subsided over the course of the class. It had simmered, thickened. Mike's assumptions had been the starting point of the emotional rollercoaster I now found myself riding. Without them, I wouldn't have been so vulnerable to Edward's disarming gaze. Even so, those childish speculations weren't the most relevant of my annoyances. My own persistent obsession with this disinterested stranger next to me ranked higher on the list. Why was it that I couldn't simply get over this fascination I felt toward him?
"Lily?" I'd expected him to have already left. However, the soft, low voice coming from directly behind me belayed that assumption.
Weary of speaking to him, I tensed at the sound. I was worried that maybe he'd noticed all the sidelong looks and probing examinations I'd been trying to conceal over the last month of exile. What would he think of the continued speculation? Would he be annoyed? More importantly, I didn't want to feel what I knew I would feel when I looked at him.
Resignedly – I didn't have it in me to ignore him – I turned to look at him, weariness cast heavily on my features.
He was standing there looking at me. There was a faintly unsatisfied look to his demeanor yet he said nothing.
"Deigning to speak to me again, are we?" My guard immediately went up and I lashed out at him cuttingly. I didn't feel rude doing this since it was he who had decided to treat me as though I didn't exist.
The left side of his mouth twitched up to hint at the crooked smile I'd seen only twice, "No. Not really." He didn't elaborate.
Taking a steadying breath and closing my eyes seemed like the prudent thing to do. I felt the urge to reach out and … I wasn't sure. Strangle him? Kiss him? Either reaction would be inadvisable.
"Then what is it you want, Edward?" I left my eyes closed. It was easier to maintain control if I wasn't distracted by his face.
"I'm sorry. I'm being very rude – I know. But it's for the best." His tone was serious and the apology was genuine, "It really is better if we're not friends, trust me."
My eyes flashed open to narrow slits. The declaration of intended protection, when, in fact, his actions had inflicted nothing but pain and annoyance, pushed my irritation to a whole new level. I'd never much appreciated being told what to do and being told that something was best for me wasn't all that different. Moreover, I had the distinct impression that he regretted having acted to save me from being pulverized by Tyler's van.
"Perhaps you should have considered that before you'd weighed yourself down with all this regret."
"Regret? For what?" My words had obviously shocked him.
My temper had reached a point from which I couldn't simply restrain myself from commenting on my suspicions, "For not simply allowing that van to crush me."
Until that point, Edward had been civil, polite, if not somewhat reserved. However, my anger-driven accusation seemed to have touched a nerve, making him lash back at me. "You think I regret saving your life?"
"What else could I think? One day you're perfectly polite and the next you treat me as though I've developed some communicable disease!"
"You don't know anything." His tone was cold, angry. The look on his face might have frightened me, if I'd had enough sense to feel fear.
I snapped. It was glaringly clear that he was lugging around some heavy guilt related to the accident and I didn't appreciate being told that I was stupid because I could see it sitting on his shoulders, "Well, then I shan't impose my ignorant presence on you any longer!" I kept my volume even, indignantly polite.
Snatching my books into my arms, I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed directly for the door, intent on making a stormy exit. However, with the Forks weather being what it was, I needed to at least retrieve my jacket before leaving. As I passed, I reached over with my free hand to yank the black biohazard suit from its hook on the wall. Unfortunately, in my ire, I pulled too hard. The jacket caught on the hook and threw me off balance. Two books tumbled to the ground before I could steady myself.
Even angrier now, I was tempted to leave the damned things lying in the doorway and continue on my righteous procession. Conversely, I didn't much feel like paying for the ruined tomes. Therefore, resigned to a ruined exit, I bent to retrieve them only to find Edward kneeling at my feet, my books in his hands.
Without verbal comment – though his expression said more than enough – he passed the stacked volumes to me.
I was angry but being polite was more important – at least I could be the adult and show that I could be civilized. "Thank you," the words came out a bit curt.
His face hardened and the anger returned to his dark eyes, "You're welcome."
Gym was nightmarish. Coach Clapp had moved us onto the basketball phase of the curriculum. I had enough trouble with distance-relation in driving let alone in sports where I was required to pass a barely-fitting object through a far-away opening. Add a vertical component to the equation and I was lost. Considering my performance during the volleyball weeks, many of the students didn't bother including me in the pass lineup. Instead, I was relegated to defense. That wouldn't have been a problem, if my mind hadn't been thoroughly occupied with Edward Cullen. Normally, multitasking wasn't an issue for me. Today, however, I couldn't seem to get him out of my head. Every time I tried to block a pass or a shot, his words and face flooded my senses, effectively nullifying my defensive attempts.
When at last the bell rang, I rushed through redressing and headed directly for my car, hoping desperately to avoid any possible contact with Edward. This morning, I'd taken advantage of a spot closer to the buildings … two slots away from the pristine metallic Volvo belonging to the Cullens. If I was lucky, which didn't seem to be the case today, I could be in my car and on my way home before he made an appearance.
My heart jumped firmly into my throat when I rounded the corner to see a dark shape leaning casually against the driver's side of my car. It took a few seconds before I realized that the form wasn't quite tall or muscular enough to be Edward. In fact, it was ganglier … more awkward. Eric Yorkie.
Relief spilling into my voice, I greeted him, "Hey, Eric!"
"Hey." Something about his voice was different. Being out of visual range, I had no clue as to what it meant.
"What's up?" I flashed him a brief, friendly smile but focused on opening my car door and propelling my bag over the gear shift and safely into the passenger's seat.
"Uh …," Nervousness, that was the unusual quality, "I was just wondering if you would … go to the Spring Dance … with me …?" His voice – already higher pitched than most of the boys his age – broke on the last word.
Dumbfounded, I turned to look at him, "The dance?" I just didn't get it. Why was it that I was so sought after as a dancing partner? I couldn't remember having mentioned an affinity for it …. "Isn't it a girl's choice dance?" My confusion didn't lend itself well to diplomacy. Only after the words were out did I realize that it sounded harsh and critical.
"Well, yeah …." He looked mortified. He'd had a hard enough time working up the courage to ask me without adding my own frankness issues to the mix.
Guilt and sympathy washed over me, making me feel as though I were solely responsible for this boy's embarrassment. I softened my tone and tried to sound commiserative, "Thank you for asking me, Eric, but I'm going to be out of town that weekend." Thank goodness for last-minute plans. Without them, I might have said yes simply to alleviate the guilt I felt at turning him down.
"Oh, okay. Maybe some other time."
"Uh-huh." I grimaced as I realized that the comment I'd meant to be non-committal could be misconstrued as encouragement to ask another time.
Luckily, he didn't seem to have heard. He slouched off back toward the school without looking at me again.
I closed my eyes and sighed. This day couldn't get any worse.
In that instant, I heard a low chuckle. The laugh was immediately recognizable and my eyes flashed wide searching for him. Edward Cullen was passing in front of my car, his lips pressed together, fighting a smile.
I glared at his departing form before practically flinging myself into the driver's seat of my car. I turned the engine over and reversed into the aisle as quickly as I could. I wanted out of the parking lot before any other boys could catch me.
Edward Cullen's single goal in life must have been to cause me as much grief as humanly possible. Before I could accelerate out of the lot, he backed the sleekly polished car out in front of me and waited. His family was nowhere near the lot, I could see them slowly rounding the administration building. It was clear he was acting simply to deprive me of the option of leaving. I glanced into my rearview mirror, intent on reversing through the aisle until I could access another row, only to see Tyler's newly-acquired Sentra idling behind me and several other cars lined up further back.
Grumbling to myself, I pointedly began fiddling with the dials on the radio, trying to find a station worth listening to. No matter how hard he tried I wasn't going to give him the benefit of knowing that I was irritated. For a fleeting moment, I considered taking out the rear end of his fancy car. However, reason returned and argued that there were too many witnesses.
While turning the scanner knob through the myriad of available frequencies, I heard a knock on my passenger side window. The noise startled me and I looked up to see Tyler Crowley waving at me. Confused, I sat up and glanced in my rearview mirror. His Sentra was still behind me, engine running, and driver's side door open. Utterly baffled, I leaned over and used the stiff crank to roll the window down halfway.
"Hey, Tyler. I'm sorry but I'm stuck behind Cullen." I let venom ooze over the last word as I flicked a helpless gesture toward the offending blockage.
"Oh, I know. I just wanted to ask you something, while we're stuck here."
My breath caught and I'm sure the look on my face had frozen into shocked disbelief. It was obvious that this was going to be more of the same thing I'd experienced already.
"Will you ask me to the Spring Dance?" His demeanor was full of cocky self-assurance, not a trace of uncertainty to be seen.
I had to remind myself that it wasn't Tyler's fault that my patience for this topic had already been more than exhausted. "I'm sorry, Tyler, but I won't be attending. I'm going to be in Seattle that weekend." My tone was slightly harsher than I'd meant it to be but I couldn't help it.
"Yeah, Mike mentioned that." He shrugged.
Mystified, I raised my eyebrows, "Then why …?" If he'd already known I wasn't available, what was the purpose of subjecting himself to rejection?
"I was just hoping you were letting him down easy." He flashed what might have been considered a devil-may-care smile at me.
He'd managed to push the wrong button. His implication that I could be callous enough to lie to Mike – and Eric – about my plans was unwarranted. I conveniently ignored the fact that I hadn't scheduled the trip prior to their invitations. "No. I actually am going to be out of town. I wouldn't lie about that." Acrid verbal poison dripped from the sharp edges of the words as I spoke. My expired patience was entirely his fault, now.
Somehow, my tone and implication didn't seem to dim his persistence. Instead, he simply smiled, "That's all right. We've got prom."
As he walked away, I stared dumbstruck at his back. Had I not made it perfectly clear that I wasn't interested? What in the Hell could have made him think I would consider going to the Prom with him?
The instant that I realized he was gone, I frantically dove over and rolled up the passenger window. There was no telling when another would-be suitor would descend to befuddle and misunderstand me. Securely ensconced in my now-locked vehicle, I glanced forward at the still parked irritation purposefully blocking my route to freedom. Edward's eyes were locked on my reflection in his rearview mirror and he was unmistakably shaking with laughter.
Furious, I put the T-Bird in gear and revved the panther-like engine to a snarl, lurching forward a few inches in threat. His siblings were folding themselves sinuously into the car and I grinned mischievously. One tiny bump wouldn't hurt any of them … just damage that glossy paint job. Besides, my car already had one dent. What was one more?
Just as I began to edge forward again, the glimmering hindrance sped away. Dissatisfied, I drove home more carefully than I normally would have.
When I walked in the door, I realized that I still needed a distraction. My temper was simmering at the edge of my mental control and having nothing to do would only cause it to boil over. For two weeks I'd been promising Julia that I would make bouillabaisse – something she'd heard Alex rave over for three years. The preparation process was long and involved, requiring abundant attention to detail and time. Today seemed like the perfect time to fulfill this obligation.
I was halfway through filleting the fish when the phone rang. Instantly, I became cautious. Considering the persistent pursuit I'd borne throughout the afternoon, I was convinced the caller would be another member of my class asking me to accompany them to the upcoming dance. I'd mostly decided not to answer before the second ring. However, after a brief examination, I realized that I hadn't given my phone number out to any males. It was unlikely that they would go through the trouble of looking up Julia's number in the phonebook. They would, probably, just wait to pounce at school tomorrow ….
I picked up after the third ring. It was Jessica and she was jubilant. Mike had caught up with her after school to accept her invitation. I celebrated briefly with her as I spiced the rue, listening to her fantasize about the event and discuss who was taking who. I listened with greater attention to the attendance list. When Jess mentioned that Lauren and Angela were going alone, I used the opportunity to provide distractions to my other two unwanted pursuers – the best defense was a good offense, right? In a very offhanded manner I suggested that Angela could ask Eric and that Lauren – whom I still didn't seem to get along with – could ask Tyler. I avoided mentioning how I knew that they were available and, luckily, Jessica wasn't interested enough to ask. She thought my suggestion was a great idea and actually sounded sincere when she told me she wished I would attend. I offered up my Seattle excuse. We hung up after a few more sentences so that she could call the aforementioned Lauren and Angela to tell them the good news.
Once prep was completed and the stew was simmering on the stove, I buried myself in the mindless task of high school homework. Regrettably, there weren't enough math problems or reading pages to keep me occupied long. Shortly before six I ran out of humdrum activities in which to engage. Fortuitously, Julia arrived home before half-after. She thoroughly appreciated the food. She'd never had the dish before but, having been raised in a coastal community, harbored an inherited love for seafood.
When I finally retired to bed, my dreams were filled with images of Edward.
The maze through which I wandered was dark and foreboding. I was searching for something; something that was forever out of reach. The first time I saw him, standing at the end of a corridor down which I had turned, I felt relief, understanding on some level that he was what I'd been seeking. I'd moved toward him, desiring the security I felt in his presence. At the first step, however, he turned away from me and disappeared around the corner. Not wanting to be abandoned to the unknown, I raced after him.
As I ran, spurred on by the fear of being alone, I heard his voice echo back to me, "We really shouldn't be friends."
"Why not?" I'd shouted at the emptiness around me.
"Trust me," the voice had whispered hauntingly.
For what seemed like hours, I ran pell-mell through the maze shrieking my question until my throat was hoarse with strain. But he never said anything more; only repeated the eerie appeal for trust. When, at last, I'd grown so lost and upset that I could go no further, my fear turned to anger. "Fine! Leave me alone, then," I'd rasped into the darkness.
Turning the next corner I came face to face with Edward – only he was different. When first I'd seen him at the end of the hallway, his eyes had been the reflective topaz I'd come to admire. Now, they were as black as the first time I'd seen him in life – abyssal pools of hunger and hate.
"Go away!" I turned away from him, trying to find another way out of the maze.
From that point on, the dark-eyed version of Edward stalked my progress through the maze. I never knew when he would appear but he was always ahead of me, blocking my path. Each time he was closer than the last until, eventually, he could have touched me with an outstretched hand.
In some corner of my mind I knew I would die if he ever did so. His touch was something I'd only experienced once. Since that contact, I'd occasionally found myself imagining what it would feel like to do more than merely brush against his skin; what it would be like to actually touch, caress. I'd put an immediate stop to those thoughts whenever they'd arisen. Now, however, the tentative desire had turned to terror.
Dim light lured me to a right-hand turn and there he was again. Before I could turn, I realized that he wasn't the same, dark Edward who had stalked me during my desperate flight for freedom. He was back to being the golden-eyed, perfect Edward I'd imagined into my Snow White fantasy. Instead of retreating from me again he simply stood there, close enough to touch and yet too distant to reach. My hand came up involuntarily and the angelic visage of him took a tentative step away and turned from me.
"Edward …," pain echoed hollowly in the hoarse reverberation of my voice.
He paused and turned his glorious face back to me, his eyes meeting mine.
"Don't go," I pleaded, my hand continuing up, beckoning him back to me.
Slowly, hesitantly, he rotated to face me again uncertainty in his eyes.
I curled my fingers invitingly, wanting nothing more in that instant than for him to take my hand.
Suddenly, determination flooded his expression and his hand slowly rose to meet mine.
I woke before our fingers could touch ….
Suffice to say, I achieved only a few hours of sleep. By early morning, I had decided that the male mind was completely unfathomable. Not a single one of the boys I'd encountered acted in any rational way. In fact, they seemed to be utterly devoid of logical reason. Compounded by this realization was my dilemma over Edward Cullen. My fascination with him was getting extremely out of hand – even managing to leak into my dreams. Having woken before dawn, I had lain in bed thinking, examining the events of the previous day.
Foremost on my mind was the obliviously insistent way boys in this town chased after me. I knew that I'd experienced this problem at other schools – there were always some boys who saw my tragic past as some sort of endearing damsel in distress call for assistance. Growing up, I had never considered myself attractive. Other than the male cousins I'd been raised with, I rarely encountered boys my own age except in the stiflingly strict environment of a Catholic church. By the time I had begun taking an interest in my appearance, tragedy had struck with Ames. I spent the next eight months convinced that I was some sort of unholy abomination. Little did I know, at the time, that I would soon encounter real monsters. Ones that would forever change my life ….
I shook my head to clear it of those thoughts. Dwelling on my past yielded nothing more than pain and heartache. It was more productive to focus on the here and now. Over the years, I had come to the understanding that my pale skin, dark hair and eyes, and the manner with which I carried myself were appealing to members of the opposite sex. I didn't see it – perhaps because I saw my face in the mirror every day and was forever reminded of the events from which its monotony had been wrought.
In LA, I'd worn makeup and done my hair every morning. Necessity had spawned the primping. Females in Santa Cruz – for the most part – didn't leave the house without their hair and makeup photo-ready. Overall, I didn't need the cosmetics and my hair had always possessed a certain romance to its body and curl. I'd engaged in the fluffing because it was socially expected. When in Rome and such.
Here, I didn't bother. The constant humidity would nullify any attempts to tame my mane and waterproof aesthetics would stand only the smallest of chances when confronted by the ever-present rain.
As such, I couldn't see what it was that the male population found intriguing. With aggravation, I realized that my opinion was not the one that mattered. I could view myself as a mutated hydra-like creature and it would make no difference so long as others didn't agree.
Having nothing further to add to the topic, I moved on … to Edward Cullen. Now that I wasn't in danger of falling on my face or being involved in an accident, I was free to examine his comments from the end of biology class. His parting words still stung but I could move past the snub to focus on what had caused them.
What had he meant that it would be better if we weren't friends? How could friendship jeopardize anything?
With mortification, I realized his probable meaning. He was exceedingly observant. He had likely noticed the sidelong inspections and distant scrutiny I'd performed over the past month. The overly obsessive nature of my interest in him had to be obvious. That must be the reason. He wasn't remotely interested in me – not that he should have been. Edward knew that there was something wrong with me. Unlike every other person in my life besides Ames and … Them … Edward had borne witness to a physical manifestation of my strangeness. As such, he wasn't remotely interested in me. He didn't want to encourage my fascination because he was frightened of me ….
Tears stung at the inner corners of my eyes as I faced this rejection. Of course he was frightened of me. Anyone in their right mind would be. Only a fool danced with a snake ….
I rose and gathered my toiletries for a shower. That was fine. I could ignore him – I would. He was just like any other boy I'd encountered over the years. Habit and need dictated that I remain untouchable. I would simply trust to instinct. My survival had trumped all previous desires – hence my continued existence.
Successful in my search, I went to the bathroom and turned on the water, absorbed with washing away my worries in the steamy cascade. I didn't make it that far. The tears were long gone now; their sting forgotten in the imagined ring of warning bells in my head. Was there more to Edward's statement than I'd first understood? Had he been cautioning me? Had the rejection been a cover for something more – a way to avoid disaster?
I skimmed the stream of thoughts bouncing around my consciousness. Maybe he had been telling me that we shouldn't be friends because he was so observant. That friendship – no matter how limited – would provide him the opportunity to delve out my secrets? He had secrets of his own – I'd unwillingly been privy to one. And, in that brief introduction, I'd become enamored with his mystery – far more than I'd been before. Perhaps he, too, was worried over what our friendship could reveal ….
Possibly he was right. If discovery were on the line, it would be better for us to refrain from a closer relationship. Then again … with both of us having something to lose, would it not also provide some alleviation to the strain of constantly hiding something? Even if one of us solved the other's riddle, would not the inherent knowledge of our own issues prevent us from exposing the other? It would be so for me. Never in all the years of my life would I consider divulging the secrets of another – specifically those that spoke of similarity to my own.
Further speculation was pointless. The option had been taken off the table by the other party involved. Making a contrary decision would only end in disappointment. Edward had made up his mind. Time for me to follow suit.
I drove into school a few minutes earlier than normal. Julia was working the afternoon shift today so I had no one to distract me from my … musings. Having made the commitment to travel into Seattle on the last weekend of the month, I figured it would be prudent to see if I could arrange a meeting with my lawyer – well, Alex and Steph's lawyer, anyway. His business partner had offices in Seattle so he might be able to meet me in person. If not, I could handle a teleconference.
I parked and retrieved my phone from the front pocket of my bag. Using the undersized keyboard, I typed out a quick email to him before exiting the cab. Ever the perfectionist, I proofread the missive before confirming the dispatch, absently using my free hand to slam the car door shut behind me.
When I looked up from the luminescent screen I was face to face with Edward Cullen. His presence startled me and I jumped involuntarily. Had he seen anything?
"How do you do that?" Picking right up with the injured indignation I'd earned at the end of our last conversation, I scowled at him.
"Do what?" His tone was lighter today, almost playful.
I shoved my phone into a back pocket and mumbled an answer, "Oh, I don't know. Magically appear out of thin air, perhaps."
"Lily, is it my fault that you are exceptionally unobservant?" His tone turned teasing which didn't help to endear him to me.
"Well, you seem quite adept at identifying my misgivings. One wonders why you continue to seek my company." If this was how he meant to converse with me, I had no intention of sticking around for it. Maneuvering around him, I set a fast pace to English.
"Lily, Wait."
I didn't stop but his longer legs carried him to my side with ease.
"I'm sorry, that was rude." His voice wasn't nearly contrite enough, "I'm not saying that it isn't true … just that it was rude to say."
The indication that his rudeness was only in highlighting my irrationality rather than imagining its existence caused me to jab back at him, "Why are you so persistent? Why can't you simply leave me be?"
He smirked but otherwise ignored my ribbing, "I wanted to ask you something but you distracted me."
"If I'm so distracting, it's a wonder you managed to ignore me for as long as you have. How did you do it?" I wasn't really expecting an answer, though I would have been grateful for one. His uncalled-for snubbing had been unduly hurtful.
"You're doing it again," humor colored the edges of his tone, making it obvious that he was fighting a smirk.
Ugh. "Very well. What is it that you wanted to ask me?" I kept walking but reduced my speed so as to make myself seem less harried.
"Well, I was wondering if a week from Saturday – you know, the day of the Spring Dance …."
I whirled to face him, stopping dead in my tracks and glaring up into his face, "Are you trying to be funny?" What was it with boys in this town and dances?
Unperturbed, he tightened his expression into a polite mask of anticipation – the faint hint of a crooked smile playing around the corners of his lips, "Will you please allow me to finish?"
Reluctantly, I nodded. In the interest of safety, I placed my hands behind my back in a parade-rest stance and locked my fingers together to keep me from being rash. I had no idea where this was heading. If he asked me to the dance, what was I going to say? I should say no, but I wasn't sure I could. My obsession would jump at the chance to be alone with him – to have his undivided attention and the ability to examine him as closely as I wished without needing to hide it.
Instead of proceeding along the expected path of conversation, Edward detoured. "Well, I heard you mention that you were going to Seattle that weekend and I was wondering if you would like a ride."
The query was completely unexpected and, at first, I was certain that I hadn't heard what I thought I had, "Pardon?"
"I was wondering if you would like a ride to Seattle." He slowed his speech down as though I needed time to better process the words.
My guard immediately went up. Why would he want to drive to Seattle with me? What could he hope to gain from spending that much time alone with me?
"Wait … You want to go on a road trip … with me?" I wanted to be certain I understood him correctly before I began questioning his motives.
"Well, not precisely." He waved his hand in a 'clearing' motion, "I was actually planning on going to Seattle myself in the next few weeks and it would be more economical for us to carpool." He paused, "Besides, I'm not certain your car is up for the trip."
"My car runs just fine, thank you very much for your concern," Emphasis on the possessive. The T-Bird was Julia's via Alex. The Porsche was technically my car.
I started walking again, trying to ferret out his intentions. I was utterly confused. What in the world was he doing? Hadn't he said that he didn't want to be friends? Why the sudden change of heart?
"Well, either way, it would still be more prudent to carpool," He caught up to me with no apparent effort.
"Honestly, Edward," I felt a thrill of excitement surge through me when I said his name aloud; "I'm starting to get whiplash. Didn't you just say that you didn't want to be friends?" I stopped under the overhanging eaves of the cafeteria building, the shelter allowing me to lift my gaze to his face without being assaulted by falling raindrops.
I was horribly temped to accept this boy's invitation – if for no other reason than to discover his motives. But decades of well-warranted weariness urged me to be careful. Curiosity had killed the cat, after all.
"No. I said that it would be better if we weren't friends – not that I didn't want to be."
My irritation piqued again, "Oh, I see – my mistake. I was under the impression that we were engaging in a rational conversation." My hands slipped from behind my back and came to rest on my hips. If my foot had been tapping, I would have been the perfect caricature of impatient irritation.
"It would be … more prudent for you not to be my friend," He seemed to be struggling with his words, as though he wanted to accurately explain something, "But I'm tired of trying to stay away from you, Lily."
My mind had suddenly gone very fuzzy. His warning had triggered some form of defensive instinct inside my head. What I had meant to say was that I didn't think that the joint trip was a good idea. However, his eyes, locked on mine, had made the thought rather slippery. I could hear my own breathing accelerate, my heart rate following suit. What did he mean by that last part?
When I didn't answer, he pressed his advantage, "Will you go with me to Seattle?"
I nodded – couldn't help it. It seemed as though my body had a will of its own – one completely autonomous from that imposed by my mind.
The smile that broke over his face was akin to that of a bridegroom receiving his intended's proposal acceptance. Then, as quickly as the smile had appeared, it was gone, having been replaced by a look of sly playfulness, "You really should stay away from me." He leaned in slightly and – for a fleeting second – I thought he might kiss me. Instead, he turned away and began crossing the lawn toward a distant classroom. "See you in class," He called over his shoulder.
Stunned. That was the word I was looking for. I was stunned. I stood dumbfounded under the shelter of the cafeteria roof until the warning bell rang.
When I finally made it into English – after the clanging of the tardy bell had faded – Mr. Mason ignored me. He was reading some excerpt from Foust and wasn't willing to let my lateness interrupt his stride. I fell into my seat, still discombobulated.
Looking around, I saw the expressions on the faces of my friends around me. Jessica was gawking open-mouthed at me, as though she were seeing me for the first time. Eric had a look of resigned admiration on his face while Mike's expression could adequately be described as disbelief. I blushed in embarrassment and quickly set to taking notes.