A/N—I apologize with all my heart for not updating this story in over five months. I completely understand if you do not want to continue reading and respect your decision. For those of you who want to know more about Bridget and Trey, thank you so much! I'm glad! I will try my best to update soon, but in the meantime don't forget to review and let me know what you think. I would really appreciate any ideas that you want to throw my way. Thanks! And [late] Happy New Year!

Now I Know

No copyright infringement intended.

Chapter 10: Imprint

Everything.

That word kept echoing inside of my head like a huge, dark, hallow cave. Everything. Every time I admitted to myself that I was [quickly] falling for Trey, my dad's protective voice loomed over my head. "You're so young," the Dad in my head would say. "You have the rest of your life to find love. Focus on what really matters to you. The theatre has never broken your heart before, and it won't ever break your heart. Don't let some random boy come along and break it just to come back later to give you a crappy Band-aid that you know will only fall off. It's only a matter of time."

Thanks Dad.

Yes, I know my relationship with Trey may seem rushed, but hey! I'm only young once, right?

Right.

You know, come to think of it, that saying is rather ridiculous. "You're only young once," adults say. They tell you to spend it having fun with your friends and getting to know yourself; don't waste your time in sticky relationships. But that's the thing—if you're only young once, don't you want to spend it with someone you love?

I do.

Wait.

Does that mean I love Trey?

What?

I shook my head, clearing it like an etch-a-sketch and returning back to rehearsal. "No, no, no, no, no," I screamed, plopping down into a random seat in the front row of the Forks High School auditorium. "Beth, why are you walking with your chest sticking out? You're a distraught teenager, not a robin." Beth narrowed her eyes at me. Was she hurt or pissed off? "And Marc, why are you talking to Elyssa's boobs?" Mark opened his mouth to respond, but I stopped him with a single finger extended into the air. "Don't answer that question."

"Bridget," Maddie said, "we were supposed to be done twenty minutes ago. Can we please go?"

"Yeah! Sorry! Let's go, but remember we're off-book tomorrow."

A collective sigh of relief filled the room. Everyone except Marc and Beth said goodbye to me on their way out. I packed up my stuff, turned off the lights, and headed down the hall to Mr. Stein's room. "Knock knock," I said, peeking my head in. Mimicking me, he held a single finger in the air. "You were spying on me." I walked in and sat in my usual desk; although, the past month or so I had been spending my class time helping the art class with the set.

"Not necessarily spying," he mused. "I was sitting in the back row, clearly visible."

"You suck." Did I just tell a teacher that he sucks?

Why yes I did.

"The show looks good," he told me. "Just remember that you are working with kids who, for the most part, have never been in a show before. Give 'em a break!"

"I know. I try." I was, really, I was. "Do you know when shop will be done with the balcony?" I asked him. My favorite scene was on a balcony—very Romeo and Juliet, no? We asked the shop class to create it for us, and I was getting impatient.

"Tuesday of next week, supposedly."

I sighed. "I can wait, but I have to go home and get homework done, so I'll see you tomorrow. Let's hope they're ready for it!" I rolled my eyes. "Let's hope I'm ready."

The next day at rehearsal:

"WOULD YOU JUST SHUT UP?" I yelled, dropping down into the nearest front row chair of the theatre. "You guys can't keep your mouths shut for two fucking minutes to listen to me, can you? No, you can't!" I stood up and began pacing in front of the stage. "You're too worried about what she did last weekend." I gestured towards some blonde named Casey. "Or who he did last night." I gestured towards the ginger sitting on the edge of the stage. "If you could just stop listening to the sound of your own voices, we could make this show not so... not resemble a piece of shit." I took another deep breath. "You got that?" The entire cast stood before me, frozen silent, probably scared of me. No one responded to my question, so I took that as a yes. "Good. Now, since you wasted all of rehearsal today, I will see you Sunday from one to four. Anyone who chooses either to not show up or to goof off will be seeing Stein immediately." Still silent. "Now go." I shooed everyone off the stage and out the door before, once again, plopping down in a seat with frustration.

Once the room had cleared out, I heard clapping coming from the back of the auditorium. "Quite the show, Ms. Cahill," Trey's voice said. I turned around and found him standing in the middle of the aisle. He was holding a coffee in one hand. I hoped it was for me, but that dream was quickly washed away when he drank from the cup. For a half-breed, he sure did enjoy his coffee.

"I'm a bitch, aren't I?" I asked him. "I'm a terrible, mean, overbearing bitch." Trey sat down on the step and motioned for me to sit down next to him. "Maybe I'm just not cutout for anything. I should just skip the theatre, skip the rest of high school, skip college, and become a hooker."

"I don't know," he mused. "I'd pay big bucks for you."

"Ew, Trey!" I slapped him. "Uncalled for."

"Well, you're the one that brought it up."

"I know," I grabbed his coffee from him and began drinking it. I didn't care if it was his; I wanted it and so be it, I was going to drink it. "I suck."

"You know, Bridget, your title may be 'director,' but that doesn't give you the license to run a dictatorship," he said. "Yes, you're in charge of this show, and Stein is putting an unbelievable amount of trust in you...well, so am I. I mean, I did write it, but that's not the point." He smiled before going on. "I remember one night when I first moved in with the Cullens, you and I stayed up talking for quite some time. You told me that it really just pissed you off when your directors didn't listen to you. You said that the actors should use their voice to speak up and let their opinion be known." I sighed, knowing where he was taking this. "So you need to remember that there may be a little Bridget in your cast that is dying to tell you what he or she thinks about something, but they are scared of you biting their head off."

"I don't bite," I interjected.

"Let me finish," he replied calmly. "I'm not criticizing you. I'm not telling you how to do your job. I'm just merely pointing out an observation."

I drank more of is coffee. It was decaf... I could tell... My sixth sense... Damn him.

"You're telling me what to do," I said.

"I was just—" But I cut him off.

"I just want it to be perfect, Trey," I said, looking straight at the stage so we wouldn't see my eyes, which were beginning to water. "I want it to be perfect. It's yours, and if I let you down, I let myself down. I just could not bear to disappoint you, so that's why it has to be perfect. No, not perfect. Flawless. Because if you don't like it, then... I don't see the point in me doing this." A few tears found their way out of my eyes and down my cheeks. I honestly did not know the reason for the tears. They just came without my permission, but I was doing nothing to stop them.

"Bridget," was all he said, taking the coffee from my hand and setting it next to him. He pulled me into him and moved my hair out my face. "Nothing you do could ever disappoint me. Of course I am going to love this show because I know that you are pouring your heart and soul into it."

I swallowed and wiped some tears away. "Is it true what the play is?" I asked.

"Pardon?"

"Rosalie read it." I bit my lip, not sure if he would be mad that I let her read it. "She said that it's about me." I sat up and looked at Trey.

"Oh, did she?" he asked.

"She said that it was one of the world's sweetest love letters."

"Oh, she did, didn't she?"

"Is it true?" I asked him. "Is Lock & Key about me?"

"In a way, yes."

"In what ways?" It could either be about me, or it couldn't. What was this "in a way" stuff?

"I'm not telling you. You have to figure what in it is about you, what is about me, and what is just...purely hope and imagination."

"Hope?" I questioned.

"Yeah. Hope." I was confused. "Hope for what will happen in the future." More confused. "With us."

That night when I finished up my homework and was getting ready for bed, Edward knocked on my door. I let him in, and he sat at my desk. "Can I asked you something?" he said after looked around my room.

"Anything," Well, within reason, that is,

"Has Jacob or anyone explained imprinting to you?"

"Of course. It's a... strange, but amazing phenomenon."

"Well, after the last couple of weeks of listening to your thoughts and to Trey's, I discussed a theory I had with Carlisle." Why was Edward talking to me about imprinting? I wanted to go to bed, for Pete's sake!

"I think there may be something like it with vampires."

"Something like it?" I asked.

"Yes, something like it. When Emmett and Rosalie met there was the same need, the same attraction as there was when Alice and Jasper met, when Carlisle and Esme met, and with Bella and myself. We had never really given much thought to it until you and Trey, but we think that...we think that we may have our own version of imprinting."

"You're shitting me," I said.

He chuckled, but I could tell he was a little taken aback. "I'm not."

"Are you telling me that Trey imprinted on me?" While I used to think the idea of imprinting was romantic, now I just found it downright creepy. Plus that word, imprint—it was just all a little abnormal.

Hm. Abnormal.

"Well, not necessarily imprinted because with shape shifters, they know instantaneously. There's like some sort of gravitational pull between the couple, but with us... it's more subdued, but... I'm sorry. It's hard to explain in words."

"It's okay. I, um, I'm gonna go to bed. I'll see you in the morning." Edward said goodnight and then left me with my thoughts—one of the worst things that can happen to a teenage girl.

I went into my bathroom and began brushing my teeth and washing my face. Splashing the water on my face was almost cleansing, but no matter how much warm water I threw on my face, I wasn't able to wash away what Edward had just told me. I dried my face off and then looked in the mirror. "Imprinted?"