Beau made his way to English in a daze. His mind was reeling so fast that he didn't realize class had already started.

"Thank you for joining us, Mr. Swan."

Beau flushed and hurried to his seat.

His classes passed by in a blur. It was difficult to believe he hadn't imagined what Edward said earlier, and the way his eyes looked. Truthfully, the mood swings were giving Beau whiplash. Hot one day, cold the next. He hoped to get a better explanation in Biology.

Beau felt out of sorts as he followed Jessica into the cafeteria. He wanted to see Edward and determine if he had returned to the haughty, indifferent person he'd been the last several weeks. Or, if by some miracle, his ears hadn't deceived him this morning. He had a hard time coming to terms with the fact that Edward, seemingly out of the blue, decided friendship was now on the table.

Jessica was talking about the dance—by the sounds of it, Angela had jumped the gun on her Sunday deadline and asked Ben before homeroom, while Lauren had made a move on Tyler—and completely unaware of his inattention. Disappointment flooded through him as he counted four Cullens at their usual table. No Edward.

So much for that explanation. Beau followed the still-chatting Jessica through the line, crushed. He bought a lemonade and sat down to sulk.

"Edward Cullen is staring at you again. I wonder why he's sitting alone today."

His head snapped up. Beau followed her gaze and found Edward smiling crookedly from an empty table. When their eyes met, Edward motioned for Beau to come over.

"Does he mean you?"

Beau hitched his backpack higher on his shoulders. "Maybe he needs help with his Biology homework. Um, I better go see what he wants."

When Beau reached the table, he stood behind an empty chair, uncomprehending this strange turn of events.

"Is this the VIP table?"

Edward chuckled. "Only the best for Forks-Most-Eligible-Bachelor. Why don't you sit with me today?"

"I'm pretty sure that's you, but all right. Thanks."

Beau sat down and stowed his backpack under the table. Edward was still smiling.

It was hard to believe someone so beautiful could be real. Beau was afraid he might disappear in a puff of smoke. Poof. Just a dream.

He cleared his throat. "So . . . this is different."

"Well . . . " Edward paused, and then the rest of the words followed in a rush. "I decided as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly."

The evasiveness would have annoyed Beau if he wasn't so excited by this development. "You know I don't have any idea what you mean. And wasn't it just yesterday you said it's better that we aren't friends?"

"Yes, I know." Edward smiled again before changing the subject. "I think your friends are angry with me for stealing you."

"They'll survive," Beau said, removing his cap, then smoothing the hair underneath. He could feel their stares boring into his back.

"I may not give you back, though."

Beau gulped at the wicked glint in his eyes.

"You look worried."

"No," Beau said at once, blushing, when his voice broke in the middle. "I'm surprised. Seriously, what brought this on?"

"I told you—I got tired of trying to stay away from you. So I'm giving up."

"Giving up," Beau repeated. This was all so confusing.

"Yes—giving up trying to be good. I'm just going to do what I want now, and let the chips fall where they may." Edward's smile faded as he spoke, and a hard edge crept into his voice.

"You lost me again."

Edward smiled in that breathtaking, crooked way. "I always say too much when I'm talking to you—that's one of the problems."

"Don't worry," Beau promised. "I don't understand any of it."

"I'm counting on that."

"So, in plain English, are we friends now?"

"Friends . . . " Edward mused, dubious. Beau could understand him, however briefly. They had clearly entered a gray area. But, at least, they were together. The back of his neck warmed at the thought.

"Or not."

"Well, we can try, I suppose. But I'm warning you now that I'm not a good friend for you." Behind his smile, the warning was real.

"You keep saying that," Beau said, ignoring the sudden trembling in his stomach.

"Yes, because you're not listening to me. I'm still waiting for you to believe it. If you're smart, you'll avoid me."

"I think you've made your opinion on the subject of my intellect clear," Beau said, his eyes narrowing. Edward only smiled apologetically in response.

"So, as long as I'm being . . . not smart, we'll try to be friends?"

"That sounds about right."

Beau looked down at the lemonade bottle. He wasn't sure what to say or what to do next. This was highly unusual.

"What are you thinking?"

Beau looked up into those deep gold eyes and blurted out the truth.

"I'm trying to figure out what you are."

"Are you having any luck with that?" Edward asked, after a moment of tense silence.

"Not too much."

"What are your theories?"

Beau blushed again. He had been mentally comparing Edward Cullen to Clark Kent all month. The guy certainly had the small town, kid-with-hidden-powers-in-high-school thing down. But there was no way he was going to own up to that; that meant admitting he watched anything on the WB. Phil always complained when he and Renée made him sit through Smallville.

"Won't you tell me?"

"It's too embarrassing. Let's talk about something else."

"That's really frustrating, you know," Edward complained.

"No, I can't imagine why that'd be frustrating for you. People are entitled to privacy, you know. And other people, the ones who demand to know what you're thinking, while at the same time making cryptic little remarks specifically designed to keep you up at night wondering what they could possibly mean . . . now, why would that be frustrating?"

Edward grimaced.

"Or better," Beau continued, the pent-up annoyance flowing freely now, "Say that person also did a wide range of bizarre things—from saving your life under impossible circumstances one day to treating you like a pariah the next, and he never explained any of that, either, even after he promised. That, also, would be very non-frustrating."

"You've got a bit of a temper, don't you?"

"I don't like double standards."

They stared at each other, unsmiling. Edward glanced across the cafeteria, then, unexpectedly, he snickered.

"What?"

"Your girlfriend seems to think I'm being unpleasant to you—she's debating whether or not to come break up our fight." Edward snickered again.

"I don't know who you're talking about, I don't have a girlfriend," Beau snapped. "But I'm sure you're wrong, anyway."

"I'm not. Most people are easy to read."

"Except me, apparently, because you keep asking questions without answering any of mine."

"Yes. Except for you." His expression became brooding. "I wonder why that is."

Beau had to look away from the intensity of his stare. He concentrated on unscrewing the lid of his lemonade. He took a swig and stared at the table without seeing it.

"Aren't you hungry? You typically eat quite a lot."

"No, I'm not hungry." His stomach was already full—of butterflies. "What about you?"

"No, I had a big breakfast." He looked amused, as if enjoying a private joke.

"Edward, can we make a deal?"

At once Edward was wary. "That depends on what you want."

"It's not much," Beau assured him. "But I was hoping you could warn me before deciding to ignore me again. Just so I'm prepared."

This seemed to amuse him. "That sounds fair."

"Let's shake on it, then."

Edward raised his eyebrows, but did not object as they shook hands over the table. That odd, electric current that Beau felt in Biology returned, but both boys let go almost immediately.

"Thanks," Beau replied, smiling despite himself.

"But I'll need something in return—this is a negotiation, after all."

"Okay," Beau said warily. When it came to Edward, he would do almost anything, and that bugged him.

"Tell me one theory."

Beau groaned. "Come on."

"You didn't qualify," Edward pointed out. "You just promised me one answer."

"You've broken promises yourself."

"Just one—I won't laugh."

"Yes, you will."

Edward looked down, then glanced up at him through his long black lashes, his ocher eyes scorching.

"Please?" he breathed, leaning across the table.

Beau blinked. It was like magic; his mind had gone completely blank. "Er, what?"

"Please tell me just one little theory." Those eyes were melting all of his willpower.

"You're Superman?" Beau blurted out.

"That's not very creative," Edward scoffed.

"I'm sorry, that's all I've got."

"You're not even close."

Beau frowned. "Bitten by a radioactive spider?"

"Nope."

"Forget about figuring out what you are," Beau muttered. "Just trying to understand who you are seems like the bigger hurdle."

Edward grew serious again. "I wish you wouldn't try."

"Why?"

"What if I'm not a superhero, Beau? What if I'm the bad guy?" He smiled playfully, but there was a heaviness to his eyes, as if he dreaded the answer.

"Oh," Beau said, as several things that Edward had hinted at fell suddenly into place. "I see."

"Do you?"

"You're dangerous?" Beau guessed, his pulse quickening, when he realized that Edward had been trying to tell him that all along. There were hints, but looking back, Beau knew he had excused them.

The two boys looked at each other in silence. Beau considered his next words carefully.

"Maybe dangerous . . . but not bad. No, I don't believe that you're bad."

"You're wrong."

Beau stared at him, wondering why he didn't feel afraid. Edward meant what he was saying—that was obvious. But Beau only felt anxious, on edge . . . and more than anything, fascinated. He felt the same way he always did when he was near Edward.

By now only five minutes of lunch remained. Beau jumped to his feet, startled by the rows of empty chairs around them. "Let's go, we're going to be late."

"I'm not going to class today."

"Why not?"

"It's healthy to ditch class now and then." Edward smiled, but his eyes were troubled.

Though Edward skipped class for an entire week, Beau had a hard time reconciling the idea of the doctor's perfect son ditching Biology again. Beau didn't want to risk it; schools in Phoenix were strict about attendance for athletes, and if he wanted to play ball this spring, his absences had to be kept to a minimum.

"Well, I'm going."

"I'll see you later, then."

Beau slung his backpack over one shoulder and tucked his hair into the Mariners cap. When he turned back at the doors, Edward hadn't moved an inch.

Beau was lucky; Mr. Banner wasn't in the room when he arrived. He felt Angela and Mike watching him with curious expressions. As far as they knew, Edward Cullen spoke to no one but his own family. Yet today he made an exception. Why?

Could they be friends as Edward suggested? Beau considered the implications of their too-quick lunch hour. More questions had been raised than answered. He was still no closer to learning the secrets Edward kept. And the danger he mentioned . . .

Maybe the whole thing was a fool's errand. Edward put heavy emphasis on them being friends, perhaps as a way not to lead him on. Because Beau did feel he was being lead into . . . something. Could he be friends with someone he was interested in? Someone who, for all intents and purposes, was unavailable to him?

The arrival of Mr. Banner was a welcome interruption to these uneasy thoughts. He came in with an armful of cardboard boxes and called the class to order. Beau watched the boxes make their way through the room as Mr. Banner snapped on a pair of blue rubber gloves. It was an ominous sight.

Mr. Banner went on to demonstrate the blood typing procedure on Mike, the nearest test subject, jabbing his finger with the lancet. A drop of blood appeared, bright red, visible from all sides of the room.

Beau wrapped both hands around the black tabletop. His stomach was roiling. He breathed slowly through his mouth, not inhaling, and tried very hard not to throw up.

But, unbidden, he felt his mind drifting back to that Phoenix locker room. Back to those boys, back to all that blood. His blood. And the smell of it.

Damn. He should have ditched when he had the chance.

Beau began to shiver like he had the chills. The room was shimmering at the edges.

"Beau, are you all right?"

"Just nauseous, sir."

"Can someone take Beau to the nurse, please?"

Lauren volunteered, but Mr. Banner interjected politely to say she wasn't strong enough to support Beau's weight, and there was a good chance he'd fall on her. She didn't seem too upset by the idea. Beau shuddered at that mental image. In the end, Mike went with him, one hand pressed to his shoulders to tow him out of the classroom.

"Dude, you're green," Mike said nervously as they inched across campus.

"Just let me sit for a minute." Beau reached for the nearest bench and used it to slide directly onto the sidewalk. The cement was cool against his face. Mike sat on the bench, watching.

"Man, I gotta say, it's nice to know you have a weakness. You're the big man on campus now, you know that? Superman."

"Hardly," Beau mumbled, eyes closed. He knew a real-life Superman already. "You're the one going to the dance with Jessica."

"That's true."

Beau decided not to point out that Jessica asked him to the dance first. He was still so dizzy.

"Beau?"

Oh no. Please let him be imagining that horribly familiar voice.

"What's wrong—is he hurt?"

The voice was closer and sounded upset. Beau wasn't imagining it. He squeezed his eyes shut and hoped to die right there. Or, at the very least, not throw up on what he assumed was a designer pair of shoes.

"I think he fainted. I don't know what happened, he didn't even stick his finger."

"Beau." Edward's voice was right beside him, relieved now. "Can you hear me?"

"No," he groaned. "Go away."

"I was taking him to the nurse. " Mike was clearly uncomfortable speaking to Edward. "But he wouldn't go any further."

"I'll take him," Edward said smoothly. "You can go back to class."

"No," Mike protested. "I'm supposed to do it."

Suddenly the sidewalk disappeared from underneath him. His eyes flew open in shock. Edward had pulled him into a standing position, their sides pressed together, his right arm curled around his waist. He slid Beau's left arm around his own neck. Then, he set off into a walk, as easily as if Beau weighed ten pounds.

"Put me down!"

"Hey!" Mike called, struggling to keep up.

"You look awful," Edward grinned, ignoring Mike, who soon fell behind them and disappeared.

"Put me back on the sidewalk."

"So you faint at the sight of blood?" This seemed to entertain him. "And not even your own blood."

"Oh my," someone gasped when the two boys arrived to the nurse's office. Edward guided Beau gently onto an empty cot, then stood across the room with his arms folded. His eyes were bright, excited.

"He fainted in Biology. They're blood typing today."

"There's always one," the nurse nodded. Edward snickered at her words. Beau was too unsteady to be insulted by it.

"Just lie down for a minute, honey; it'll pass. Does this happen a lot?"

"Sometimes," Beau admitted, allowing her to think it was only queasiness. Edward coughed to hide another laugh.

"You can go back to class now," the nurse told him.

"I'm supposed to stay with him." Edward said this with such assured authority that—even though she pursed her lips—the nurse didn't argue it further.

"I'll go get some ice for your forehead, dear."

Beau watched her go, then let his eyes close. "You were right."

"I usually am—but about what in particular this time?"

"Ditching is healthy."

"You scared me for a minute there," Edward admitted. His tone made it sound like he was reliving a humiliating experience. "I thought Newton was dragging your dead body off to bury it in the woods."

"Ha ha."

"Honestly—I've seen corpses with better color. I was concerned that I might have to avenge your murder."

"You'll only have to do that if Mike kills me to become Superman."

"Pardon me? Did you hit your head again?"

"He called me, and I quote, 'the big man on campus.' Whatever that means. And the last time I hit my head, it was your fault."

"Poor Mike," Edward said cheerfully. "I'll bet he is mad you didn't die. He absolutely loathes me, so, you're in good company."

"You can't know that," Beau argued, but then wondered suddenly if he could.

"I saw his face—I could tell."

"How did you see us, anyway? I thought you were ditching." Beau was almost fine now, though, as he realized the woozy feeling might have something to do with his lemonade-only-lunch. On the other hand, maybe it was lucky his stomach was empty—nothing in there to throw up. But even with the light lunch, even minus the blood . . . it was really the memory of Phoenix that made him sick.

"I was in my car, listening to a CD." Such a normal response—that surprised Beau.

The nurse returned with a cold compress. "You're looking better."

Ms. Cope stuck her head into the room to warn of an incoming invalid. Beau jumped up from the cot to see Mike staggering through the door with a sallow-looking Lee Stephens. He and Edward drew back against the wall to give them room.

"Oh no. Get out of here, Beau. Trust me—go."

Beau darted out of the room with Edward following close behind. "You actually listened to me."

"I smelled the blood," Beau told him.

"People can't smell blood."

"Well, I can," Beau muttered, already sorry he brought it up. "That's what made me sick. It smells like rust . . . and salt. What?"

Edward was staring at him with an unfathomable expression. "It's nothing."

The door opened again and Mike came out. He glanced curiously between the other two boys. "You look better. Are you going back to class?"

"Are you kidding? I'd have to turn around and come back."

Mike chuckled at that. "Yeah, I guess you're right. So, are you coming this weekend? To the beach?"

Beau watched his eyes flicker to Edward, who stood against the cluttered counter, motionless as a statue and staring off into space. He supposed Mike really did loathe Edward. But why? Sure, Edward could be unfriendly and hard to get to know . . . rich . . . rude. But he was a lot of other things, too.

Did Mike loathe Edward because, for a time, he had been the center of attention, at least until Beau showed up?

Was Mike serious earlier, about him showing weakness, about Beau being the big man on campus? And if he was serious, why did he bother inviting Beau along?

Edward said they were in good company. Maybe that was true. Maybe Mike really did loathe both of them.

"Sure," Beau said at last, defeated. The impulse to assimilate was just too strong to ignore. "I said I was in."

"We're meeting at my dad's store, at ten." Mike glanced at Edward again, who wasn't looking at him. Clearly it was not an open invitation.

"I'll be there."

"See you in Gym, then."

Beau watched him go, then groaned quietly. "I forgot about Gym."

"I can take care of that," Edward said in his ear. "Go sit down and look pale."

He watched Edward approach the counter and felt a surge of sympathy for Ms. Cope. The poor woman had no idea what she was in for.

"Ms. Cope? Beau has Gym next hour, and I don't think he feels well enough. Actually, I was thinking I should take him home now. Do you think you could excuse him from class?"

Edward's voice was like melting honey. Beau couldn't see his face, but he could only imagine the sheer force of his eyes.

"Do you need to be excused, too, Edward?"

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde had become one. The women of Forks and the gay ex-baseball player didn't stand a chance against him.

"No, I have Señora Goff, she won't mind."

"Okay, it's all taken care of. You feel better, Beau," Ms. Cope called. He nodded weakly, hamming it up just a bit.

"Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you again?"

"I'll walk."

Edward held the door, smiling politely, but his eyes were mocking. Beau walked out into the cold, fine mist that had just begun to fall. It felt nice—the first time he'd enjoyed the constant moisture falling out of the sky—as it washed his face clean of the sticky perspiration.

"Thanks. It's almost worth getting sick to avoid dealing with Mike."

"Anytime." Edward was staring straight ahead, squinting into the rain.

"So are you going? This Saturday, I mean?"

Beau was hoping he would, though it seemed unlikely. He couldn't picture Edward loading up to carpool with the rest of the kids from school; he didn't belong in the same world. But just hoping that he might gave Beau the first twinge of enthusiasm he'd felt for the outing.

"Where are you all going, exactly?"

"Down to La Push, to First Beach." Beau watched the gold eyes narrow infinitesimally.

"I really don't think I was invited."

"I just invited you."

"Let's you and I not push poor Mike any further this week. We don't want him to snap." His eyes danced; he was enjoying the idea more than he should.

"Mike-schmike," Beau muttered, preoccupied by the way Edward said you and I.

They were near the parking lot now. Beau veered left, toward Big Red, until something caught his jacket and yanked him backwards.

"Where do you think you're going?" Edward asked, outraged. He had a fistful of Beau's jacket in one hand.

Beau was confused. "I'm going home."

"Didn't you hear me promise to take you safely home? Do you think I'm going to let you drive in your condition?"

"What condition? And what about my truck?"

"I'll have Alice drop it off after school." Edward was towing Beau toward his Volvo now, pulling him along by the jacket. It was all Beau could do to keep from falling down. And if he did fall, Edward would probably just drag him along anyway, dead weight and all.

"Hey, lay off!"

Edward ignored him. When he finally freed him, Beau stumbled against the passenger door, stunned by the force of gravity.

"You just don't take no for an answer, huh?"

"It's open," Edward said as he slid into the driver's seat. Beau glanced back at Big Red, calculating his chances of reaching the truck before he was caught. Those chances weren't good. Beau had seen how fast Edward moved to stop the van spinning out of control. He'd be toast.

"This is ridiculous. Edward, I'm fine."

Edward didn't answer. He was fiddling with the controls, the heater, even the music. Beau was preparing himself to dive for the steering wheel in sheer annoyance when he recognized the music playing.

"Clair de Lune?"

"You know Debussy?"

"Not well," he admitted. "My mother plays a lot of classical music around the house. I only know my favorites."

"It's one of my favorites, too." Edward stared out through the rain, lost in thought.

Beau listened to the music and let himself relax against the leather seat. It was impossible not to respond to the familiar, soothing melody. Beau realized at one point that they were driving very fast, but the car moved so smoothly he barely felt the speed. Only the town flashing by gave it away.

"What's your mother like?"

Beau glanced at Edward, surprised by the question. "She's beautiful. Very outgoing . . . more than I am, definitely. Braver. She's irresponsible . . . eccentric. A very unpredictable cook. She's my best friend."

He stopped. Discussing Renée was making him depressed. With a start, he realized they were at Charlie's house already.

"How old are you, Beau?"

"I'm seventeen."

"You don't seem seventeen."

"My mom always says I was born middle-aged," Beau laughed. "Someone has to be the adult, I guess. And you don't seem much like a junior in high school yourself."

Edward made a face at that. "So why did your mother marry Phil?"

Beau was surprised he remembered the name. He only mentioned it once, almost two months ago now.

"My mom . . . she's very young for her age. I think Phil makes her feel younger. She's crazy about him."

"Do you approve?"

"Does it matter?" Beau asked. "I want her to be happy . . . and he's who she wants."

"That's very generous . . . I wonder," Edward mused.

"What?"

"Would she extend the same courtesy to you, do you think? No matter who your choice was?" He was suddenly intent, his eyes searching Beau's.

"I-I think so," Beau stuttered. "But she's the parent, after all. It's a little bit different."

"No one too scary then," Edward teased.

Beau grinned in response. "What do you mean by scary? Multiple facial piercings? Extensive tattoos? Drives expensive Swedish automobiles?"

"I suppose we define scary a little differently."

"What's your definition?"

Edward ignored that question. "Do you think that I could be scary?"

Beau thought about it. "I think you could be, if you wanted to."

"Are you frightened of me now?"

"No," Beau answered, too quickly. He was frightened, but not in the way he expected. "So, are you going tell me about your family? I'm sure it's a much more interesting story than mine."

Edward was instantly cautious. "What do you want to know?"

"The Cullens adopted you?"

"Yes."

Beau hesitated, sensing he was nearing unsettled territory. "What happened to your parents?"

"They died many years ago." His tone was matter-of-fact.

"I'm sorry."

"I don't really remember them that clearly. Carlisle and Esme have been my parents for a long time now."

"And you love them."

"Yes," Edward smiled. "I couldn't imagine two better people."

"You're very lucky."

"I know I am."

"And your brother and sister?"

Edward glanced at the clock on the dashboard. "My brother and sister, and Jasper and Rosalie for that matter, are going to be quite upset if they have to stand in the rain waiting for me."

"Oh, sorry, I guess you have to go." Beau was reluctant to get out of the car.

"And you probably want your truck back before Chief Swan gets home, so you don't have to tell him about the Biology incident." Edward was grinning.

"I'm sure he's already heard," Beau muttered. "No secrets in this town."

"Have fun at the beach . . . good weather for sunbathing." Edward glanced out at the sheeting rain.

"You're not going to school tomorrow?"

"No, Emmett and I are starting the weekend early."

"What are you going to do?" A friend could ask that, right? He hoped the disappointment wasn't too apparent in his voice.

"We're going to be hiking in the Goat Rocks Wilderness, just south of Rainier."

Beau remembered Charlie had said the Cullens went camping a lot.

"Oh, well, have fun." Beau tried to sound enthusiastic, but Edward wasn't fooled. A smile was playing on the edge of his lips.

"Will you do something for me this weekend?" He turned to look Beau straight in the face, utilizing the full power of his burning gold eyes.

Beau nodded helplessly.

"Don't be offended, but you seem to be one of those people who just attracts accidents like a magnet. So . . . try not to fall into the ocean or get run over or anything, all right?"

Beau glared at the crooked smile. "I'll see what I can do."

Then he jumped out into the rain and slammed the door with more force than necessary.

Edward was still smiling as he drove away.

A/N: Play nice, boys!

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