Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight. Enjoy.
I never gave much thought to how I would die. But on the odd occasion that I did think about it, I didn't imagine it would be in front of Edward Cullen on a busy street in Port Angeles on a school field trip.
The excursion itself had been great. My students were engaged and eager as we watched a matinee of Macbeth by the Port Angeles Players. Aside from whispering at Mike Newton to shut up several times throughout, no one had given me any trouble and I was yet to lose anyone - another one of my biggest teaching fears.
My brush with death occurred in the latter part of the day. It was our designated lunch hour and my students had some free time to kill before we would meet to get back on the bus to school.
I'd just finished checking out the local book store and was sending Angela a quick text to let her know that everything was okay when time suddenly went still. Everything was quiet. I looked up. Why was that cyclist on the sidewalk, and why was he riding right towards me?
I was stuck. I couldn't move. My hair whipped around my face. My eyes went wide as I felt myself falling. I instinctively gripped onto my phone, more concerned with it breaking than my face or my arm. But there was something breaking my fall. There were arms around me. I was almost cushioned as I hit the cool concrete.
"Fuck!" Those words left the mouth of none other than Edward Cullen.
"Ow," I mumbled. Although his body had broken my fall, I still hit the concrete hard. I rattled like eggs in a basket. My ears rang as he slowly released me from his arms and I attempted to right myself. He began to stand up and rather than taking my hand to help me up, he pulled me up by my jacket sleeve like I was a child.
People made noise around us, but I didn't quite hear it. I was in a bit of a daze and still trying to come to terms with the fact I'd almost cracked my head open. Slowly the crowd dispersed, leaving Edward and me alone. He was staring at me and once again he looked pained.
"Can you try and pay more attention?" He was seething.
"Excuse me?!" I snapped back. "I was texting Miss Webber on my phone, on a sidewalk, like a normal person. Cyclists are supposed to ride on the road. I saw them coming, I just couldn't move!"
"You've been stumbling and tripping all day. It's like you can't even walk straight. You drove home drunk the other night from The Mill. You're an accident waiting to happen!" Edward gestured wildly towards me before moving his hands to his hair. He mumbled something incoherent, tugging on the ends. His eyes were wild.
"I was not drunk!" I felt my face get hot. My stomach lurched. I wanted to cry, or be sick.
Mike Newton's voice snapped me back to reality. "Miss Swan, you look a little woozy. Are you okay?" He looked genuinely concerned as his eyes travelled across my face.
"I'm good, Mike. I think I just need some water." I ruffled through my backpack and was thankful my water bottle was still intact. "C'mon, let's go, we should be making our way back to the bus." I looked only at Mike as I said this, refusing to make any eye contact with Edward. I'd just about had it with him. His behavior was ridiculous and it was clear that he did not respect me.
The bus ride back to Forks was quiet. My students (all 22 of them, I counted them twice) were quiet, seemingly tired from our day and I was mostly left to my own thoughts as we made the trip back. I pressed the side of my forehead against the cool window of the bus. My face still felt hot from my interaction with Edward earlier, and my body felt sore from my close contact with the concrete.
How did he even get there? I had been in the bookstore by myself and the last I'd seen of him during our lunch break, he was walking in the opposite direction of me.
Why did his arms feel so hard and so strong? I thought back to the feeling of hitting the concrete, his whole body had surrounded me.
I don't remember 17-year-old boys feeling like that. They never felt that strong, that heavy, that secure. I shook my head and fluttered my eyes open and closed.
My phone buzzed in my jacket pocket.
Don't forget the game tonight.
Ugh, I had forgotten about the basketball game. I stared down at my phone and began typing.
Don't even think about it!
Okay, I replied.
Your fault for booking the field trip on the same day! Angela's voice was grating me even through a text message.
I know. I'll see you there at 6:30
Just as I hit send, I looked up to see we'd finally made it back to the Forks High parking lot. It was just after 4:00 and the lot was mostly empty, students having fled early in preparation for the evening game.
I counted all 22 students as they descended the bus, thanking the driver and then taking my time to rummage through my bag to check I had everything and that I could make my way home.
I looked up as Mike Newton and Jessica Stanley waved goodbye as they pulled out of the lot. "See you at the game, Miss Swan!" Jessica's voice ricocheted through my ears. She was sweet, a bit thick, but sweet. But god, her voice was shrill.
My bag slipped off my shoulder, and I shrugged it back into place. I headed toward my truck but tripped over my shoe lace. I sighed, crouching down to tie it up. On standing, I noted there were now only a few cars left in the lot. I considered who would still be here at this point. I was certain most of my students had left.
Then I saw him. The owner of the silver Volvo. Edward Cullen.
"Can I speak with you, Miss Swan?"
That stupid melodic voice. "Um, I've got a little bit of a headache, and I really need to head home. Can it wait until tomorrow?"
"According to Forks High policy, teachers are available for students and parents up until 5:00 p.m."
Was he for real? I tried to keep my tone polite. "Okay, sure. How can I help you Edward?"
"I want to apologize for my behavior earlier. It was out of line. I was out of line. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that." He sounded almost sincere. Edward hadn't spoken to me often, but there was something different about his tone of voice, something off.
"Okay, thank you. Is there anything else?" I tried to hide the suspicion in my voice.
Edward looked a little stumped. He took a small step towards me, but still kept a good distance between us.
"How did you get to me so fast on the sidewalk?" the words tumbled out. I hadn't wanted to say anything to him, but the memory of his cold, granite-like arms cushioning me from my fall consumed my thoughts.
"I was right next to you," he murmured.
I squinted at him, like I was trying to see through him. "You were not. You weren't even around. I would have noticed you."
Edward let out an annoyed groan, breaking eye contact. He looked down at the ground, kicking a stray pebble from the asphalt.
"I really need to get home, Edward," I sighed and chewed on my thumb nail. This conversation wasn't going anywhere, and my tone was bordering on unprofessional with him. I walked past him to my truck. It was now ten to five and I was running on limited time to get home and changed for the game. "Thanks for your attendance today. Get home safe." I said through the wound-down window as I exited the parking lot.
It felt like I hadn't even left when I returned to school a short time later. I was exhausted before the game even started. I put on my best smile for Angela and my colleagues as I sat with them in the stands. I really didn't want to be here.
"What I wouldn't give for there to be some kind of miracle for Emmett McCarty and his chronic arthritis," sighed PE coach Brett Clapp as he cheered on the Spartans.
"Emmett isn't a Cullen?" I asked, still confused by the Cullen family dynamic. I rubbed my hands against my thighs, my mittens causing friction and creating a tinge of warmth. It was seriously cold in the gym.
"Nah, the only Cullens are Edward and Alice, they were adopted as brother and sister. Jasper and Rosalie are Hales - also adopted as brother and sister, and Emmett was taken in solo. He's a McCarty."
"Right," I murmured back. "So what's the deal with Emmett?" I asked, my tone more upbeat.
"He hasn't played the year and a bit he's been here. He occasionally jumps on the court and throws the ball around, but he doesn't have a medical clearance. Something about chronic arthritis. A real shame..."
A roar erupted from the sidelines and it was then I spotted the Cullens. They were sitting courtside and were playfully attempting to distract Emmett as he walked the sideline with another student, somehow still involved although unable to play.
Alice Cullen suddenly turned and looked at me square on. She smiled and waved, mumbling something under her breath. Whatever it was, it caught the attention of Edward, who spun around and locked eyes with me.
I suddenly found myself standing. "Uh, I need to use the restroom. I'll be back."
My colleagues, so engrossed in the game, simply nodded.
I made my way down the stands and moved through students and parents milling around near the entrance to the gym. The closest restroom was probably in the PE building across the hall, the gym rest rooms being used exclusively for the teams playing. Being in a dark school building at night was not my idea of a good time, so I was relieved to see the lights were all on and the rest rooms also open. As I walked the corridor to the exit of the building, I struggled with my mittens, dropping one on the floor.
I kneeled down to retrieve it, only to come face to face with Edward Cullen.
"It's past 5 p.m., I am under no obligation to speak with you, Edward." My tone was light, wanting to make up for my earlier behavior. I was too short with him in the parking lot.
He laughed at me. His eyebrows raised and a smile spread across his face.
"Miss Swan, I just want to…"
I put my hand out to stop him. His mouth closed.
Now was a good time as ever to address the nagging feeling I had about our interactions.
"Look, it's clear you're not very fond of me or my teaching. I know I shouldn't take it personally...but I just don't know what to do."
Edward suddenly grabbed my hand. His thumb went into my palm and he pressed down softly.
Why was he touching me? He shouldn't be touching me. I wanted to move my hand away but I couldn't. I felt tethered to him.
"I don't hate you," his thumb moved in circles around my palm, and then he stopped. My hand dropped limp. It burned from his touch. I looked down, and there was a part of me that wished he was still holding it.
Suddenly he began putting my mitten onto my right hand. "I just can't understand you. I can't hear you."
I was confused.
Sensing my confusion, he went on. "I pride myself on having a good read on people... and I can't read you. That's why I've been so difficult. I've been a jerk of a student...I'm sorry. I'm going to try and be better...try and stay away from you."
Edward pulled the mitten down and secured it around my wrist. I let out an audible gasp as his cool hand sneaked up the cuff of my jacket and found its way to the soft wool fabric of my base layer. His cold fingers lingered, they trickled down the veins of my wrist as he gently pulled the fabric and tucked it back into the mitten.
I felt it. My insides twitched.
I immediately took a step back. This was wrong. I needed to get out of there.
He looked at me like he could hear the rampant rhythm of my heartbeat. I felt my face burning up.
"I have to go." I turned on my heel and quickly left the building. I picked up my pace, willing myself closer to the stands and my colleagues.
In the distance I could swear I heard Edward calling my name but I refused to turn around. I couldn't look at him.
I made my way back to my colleagues and tried to watch the game, mimicking Angela's eager body language as she whooped and cheered.
In the moments of non-exciting play, I kept finding myself looking for him. I tried to avert my gaze. Tried to focus on something else, anything else. But I couldn't help it.
I kept replaying our conversation in my head...
"I don't hate you…" I'd never said that in front of him. How did he know I thought he hated me? Who told him?
Finally I spotted him. He appeared almost out of thin air and made his way back to his seat with his siblings. Alice looked at him, hopeful, but then her face changed and she hit him, hard, her tiny fist balled up and colliding with his arm. She was clearly annoyed, her hand was now pointing at him as she spoke. She was making a point. He ran his hands through his hair, pulling at it as he said something back at her. The look on her face told me she wasn't satisfied with his response, and she turned her body to face away from him, signaling the conversation was over. It was then that Rosalie Hale, who had not once even acknowledged my existence, turned around and looked at me directly. It was like she didn't even have to search for me. She knew I was there. She glared at me and I felt my stomach sink.
Great. Another Cullen to add to my list.
Authors Note
As always, a big thank you to my beta team TheBaseBallGirl, Teaandsolitude & JennaReads
This chapter has been posted a little earlier than anticipated due to my terrible writers block. I hope getting this one out there will get me writing more consistently again. Thank you to readers that have followed, favourited and reviewed! This has been a fun little project, and I hope that you'll enjoy what is ahead for Edward and Bella.