Edward sees me the moment I see him. We're synchronised; always; always.
He's sitting behind his desk, in the empty seat beside mine.
My grin dissolves like a pill in acid.
The only other people here are Mr. Jensen and one of the Denali sisters, who's doing a very good impression of not texting.
Edward's eyes don't leave mine. He looks like a different person, almost, as if his features have been tied over the skull of someone who can sit calmly. I remember him as quiet and blunt and wild, but the Edward in front of me is blank-faced, perfectly still, in a pose that looks practised and predatory.
Only his eyes move, flicking down and up, and I wait for the change in his face when he sees my dyed hair.
But there is nothing; not a twitch in that stone-like face. That face.
It breaks my heart to realise how beautiful he is. It makes my bones scream when I take in the sharpness of his jaw, the high cheekbones, aristocratic nose. The shaggy bush of his hair is shorter, but still sticks up in strange angles. His shoulders are broad, and my stomach flips- I already know how they feel against me. How strong the length of his back is.
The green eyes gaze into my muddy brown ones, and I forget, for a moment, how to be frightened. How could I ever have been frightened of him?
Because of this. Because of how we affect each other. I should be scared, because I am never scared in front of him, when he is meters away, when everything is suddenly water under the bridge as soon as he looks at me. This is why he is dangerous, and suddenly I'm thanking Mrs. Parson in my head, despite her eventual betrayal. I know what he's doing.
I listen for the cold, detached part of me, letting her dictate how I move, because otherwise I'll run and run and never come back. This kind of reaction has been explained to me countless times- Stockholm Syndrome, selective memory, misguided conceptions...
This is my test. This- stare is my first test.
And then, he does something amazing. Something Edward Cullen has never done before in his life.
He looks away first, and ignores me.
I can't even breathe, I can't think. I can't believe it. His jaw it outlined by the light from the window, but the stiffness of it doesn't matter.
Cold, clinical me reminds me of the empty seat beside him, how that seat is mine. But I'm scared to get close too soon. I tear my eyes from the side of his head, walk towards Mr. Jensen.
I pull Mrs. Parson's note from my pocket, the one saying she has a meeting with me that I never threw away. The meeting that has ruined my head.
"You're early," Mr. Jensen gives me a smile, absent-minded, and glances at the note. "Yes, that's fine." He goes back to what he was writing on the whiteboard.
My eyes need to see him, to soak him in, to adjust to the changes in his body, in the way he holds himself. I need to run my fingers through his hair. I need to touch his chest as he speaks, feel his heart beat faster. Touch those shoulders, instead of ducking away from them.
It's hard to walk out and not glance at him. It's hard to walk away from the classroom. It's hard to remember why what happened between us matters.
And then, when I'm far enough away, I remember.
And my hands can't stop shaking.
I wander the halls, my head feeling light, and try to remember when I last ate. Not this morning. Not last night.
Why...crap...no... I put my hands over my face, trying to breathe steadily. Don't pass out. Don't pass out. Not here.
It takes ten minutes to find out where medical is, and the nurse there takes one look at me before guiding me over to one of the sick beds. I lie there and stare at the ceiling, trying to figure out how much of the pain I'm feeling is from hunger, how much is from a bad night of sleep, and how much is just from the way Edward Cullen wouldn't look at me in the end.
Mike. Alice. I grope for things in my head, things in my life which are evidence that I am my own person.
I was so weak.
Oh, God, oh, God. Tears burst behind my closed eyelids, and I put my elbow over my face, keeping my breathing even as I perform the art of crying silently. It doesn't matter if anyone sees me- unless they lean in close, they'll never be able to tell what I'm doing.
I can't let him do this to me. I can't allow him to break me into pieces.
Edward Cullen doesn't control me.
And even as I drift to sleep, I know what a bitter lie that is. He controls everything I do. Even when he isn't here.
Alice gives me a huge smile when she sees me at lunch, and then frowns when she notices my red eyes. "Are you okay?" she asks.
I nod. "Have a bit of a cold. Yeah, I just...don't eat enough. I thought I'd give the cafeteria one last chance."
"Good!" she says, her pixie eyes gleaming. She has a secret, one she can't wait to spill. "You need to gain a little. Besides, do you know how weird it is that you're my best friend, but I never sit with you at lunch?"
A wordless smile appeases her, and she guides me to the waiting line. I pick up a tray, and watch her livelier-than-usual actions with growing suspicion.
When we take a seat, I kick her gently under the table after a few calls of her name can't get her attention. She blushes. "Sorry, Bella. So, you and Mike..?" she raises an eyebrow.
"Alice, you're blushing. That's my thing."
She goes a deeper shade. "Cute boy in acting class. He's new, but apparently he transferred from like Texas, -you should hear his accent- and he's just so smooth." She laughs, shaking her head.
"What's smooth?" a deep male voice asks behind me.
Mike touches my shoulder, smiling. "Hey stranger," he says, setting his tray down beside mine, and then looks to Alice. "Hey, Alice. What's up?"
"Bella? You're eating, now?" Rosalie's voice is thick with disbelief, and cuts through the air like a razor. I look up at her, and she takes in my red eyes, her disbelief turning to suspicion. She plonks her tray next to Alice and crosses her arms with a huff, her blonde hair piled in a dramatic braid around her face.
Alice laughs, trying to break the suddenly awkward air. We don't usually talk about how I don't eat much. Anything. It's not something anyone likes to point out, except for Mike, who buys me candy too often for it to be just sweetness.
"I was just telling Bella she should come down with us mortals more often," Alice smiles. Mike wraps his arm around my shoulders, a silent communication that he's glad I'm here.
Rosalie laughs, suddenly, and it surprises Alice, but I see from her pixie face that she likes Rosalie already. Which isnt unusual- this is one girl who can make friends with just about anyone. It's one thing I like about Alice- she's not about to be jealous of or hate a girl like Rosalie just because Rosalie is about as physically perfect as you can get.
"Hey, how did class go?" I ask Mike, leaning into his shoulder, getting a little kick of awareness from it.
He smiles at me, kisses my cheek. "I was thinking about you."
"Oh, perfect," Rose snorts, looking slightly like she regrets sitting down. Alice giggles and shakes her head.
"You're Rose, right?" she asks the blonde.
Rosalie looks at her and cocks her head. "To my friends."
Alice grins. "Then I guess I'm your friend."
"Oh, perfect," I groan, which gets a laugh, but the uneasiness is real- Alice and Rosalie being friends is not what I want. I've taken pains to keep them apart.
Coming here was a bad idea, but I can't take it back, and now I have to live with the possibility that my room mate will tell my best friend my secret.
If Mike feels me trembling, he hides it well.
I wait for Rosalie that afternoon, knowing her last class. She spots me, and raises an eyebrow. "Um?"
"Don't tell Alice." I stick to the point.
Rosalie blinks, then does a double take. "Are you seriously telling me that Alice has no idea about what happened with Edward?"
I feel like a child. This is stupid. The law says I'm legal. I can't keep feeling shitty out of everything I do. "It's my decision," I reply calmly.
She rubs her face. "Yes, Bella, but- seriously? She's your best friend."
My throat clenches. "Exactly." I feel angry now, properly angry for the first time in years. I meet Rosalie's eyes. "Since when is it good to have your best friend know you're a fuck up?"
She's shocked because she's never heard me swear. "But who better," her temper flares in response. "You don't need to lie to have friends. It's not like this is the sixteenth century and you're damaged goods!"
"It's not lying," I spit.
She gives a hard laugh. "Oh, yeah, Bella, you never lie. You just don't say what's going on."
"Are you mad-"
"I'm mad because your letting them win!" she hisses, her voice lowering as we stop in a slightly more crowded hallway. "You let them win every second you pretend nothing ever happened. They can do this because no one knows they're doing it, Bella, and you're the only one who can change that!"