Morning found Beau in bed arguing with himself. He kept debating if the previous evening had been a dream. Logic, truthfully, was not on his side. Beau had an overactive imagination, so he clung to the parts he couldn't have imagined, like Edward's scent. That was something he didn't dream up on his own.
The thought of the previous evening only made him greedy for more. Life has he knew it would never be the same again. A shadow world existed now, just a few steps beyond the confines of the ordinary one. Creatures that went bump in the night also paid for mushroom ravioli. It was unbelievable, and yet, it was all true.
The thick fog sticking to the window excited Beau. There was no reason for Edward not to be in school.
Charlie was gone when he went downstairs—that meant Beau was running behind today. He ate his breakfast standing up to save time and hurried out the door. Hopefully the rain would hold off until he could find Jessica. He'd worn extra layers to compensate for the lack of jacket—further proof that his memory was still reliable.
The cold mist clung to his face and neck. He imagined a Victorian England in a fog like this, engulfed by it, the kind that cloaked Dracula's arrival by the Demeter. And just like in the story, this fog also obscured something crucial: a silver car.
Beau felt his heartbeat pick up double time. It was the Volvo.
He didn't see where he came from, but suddenly Edward was there, holding the passenger door open.
"Do you want to ride with me today?" he asked, looking amused. Clearly he enjoyed taking him by surprise. But there was uncertainty in his voice. Edward was really giving Beau the choice—he was free to refuse, and a part of him hoped for that. It was a vain hope.
"Yes, thank you," Beau said, trying to keep his voice level. He slid into the passenger seat and eyed the tan jacket that was slung over the headrest. The door closed behind him, and sooner than should be possible, Edward was behind the wheel and starting the engine.
"I brought the jacket for you. I didn't want you to get sick or something." Edward was guarded, and wore no jacket himself, just a knit V-neck with long sleeves. It was a colossal tribute to his face that kept Beau's eyes away from his body.
"Thanks. Are you sure this is okay?" Beau asked as he slid his arms through the sleeves. "It's not too out of your way?"
"Not the way I drive," Edward promised. Beau couldn't help but agree with that.
The Volvo drove through the foggy streets, always too fast, and full of awkwardness. Almost all the walls had come down last night; Beau wasn't sure if they were still being as candid today. He also wasn't sure what would happen when they arrived at school. It left him anxious and quiet. Beau watched Edward out of the corner of his eye as he decided on what to say. But nothing came to mind.
Finally, Edward broke the silence, smirking as he did so. "What, no twenty questions today?"
"Do my questions bother you?"
"Not as much as your reactions do."
Beau frowned. "Do I react badly?"
"No, that's the problem. You take everything so coolly—it's unnatural. It makes me wonder what you're really thinking."
"I always tell you what I'm really thinking." It was almost the truth.
"You edit," Edward said accusingly.
"Not very much."
"Enough to drive me insane."
"You don't want to hear it," Beau mumbled. He regretted the words at once. The pain in his voice was very faint; he hoped Edward hadn't noticed it. "Where's the rest of your family?"
"They took Rosalie's car," Edward said as they parked next to a glossy red convertible. "Ostentatious, isn't it?"
"Wow. If she has that, why does she ride with you?"
"Like I said, it's ostentatious. We try to blend in."
"You don't succeed," Beau told him as they got out of the car. He glanced at his watch; he wasn't late anymore. Edward's insane driving had gotten them both to school with plenty of time to spare. "So why did Rosalie drive today if it's more conspicuous?"
"Haven't you noticed? I'm breaking all the rules now." Edward joined him at the front of the car and stayed close to his side as they walked onto campus. Beau wanted to close that distance, to reach out and touch him, but he was terribly afraid of being rejected. He held onto the straps of his backpack instead.
"Why do you have cars like that at all? If you're looking for privacy?"
"An indulgence," Edward admitted with an impish smile. "We all like to drive fast."
"Figures." But he was intrigued by this new detail in the mystery of the Cullen clan.
Jessica stood waiting next to the cafeteria. Her eyes were huge as she took in the sight of the two boys approaching. Beau's jacket slung over her arm.
"Hey, Jessica, thanks for bringing that."
"Good morning, Jessica," Edward said politely.
"Er . . . hi." Her eyes shifted to Beau as she attempted to gather her jumbled thoughts. "I guess I'll see you in Trig."
"Yeah, I'll see you then."
Jessica shot him a meaningful look as she walked away. Beau sighed. He had no idea what he should say to her. It hadn't dawned on him when he woke up this morning that today was the day he would come out to all of Forks High School, and apparently, bring Edward along for the ride. He still hadn't come to terms with that yet.
"What are you going to tell her?"
"Hey, I thought you couldn't read my mind!"
"I can't," Edward said, startled. Then understanding brightened his eyes. "However, I can read hers—she'll be waiting to ambush you in class."
Beau groaned as he switched jackets. It was just as he feared.
"So what are you going to tell her?"
"A little help?" Beau pleaded. "What does she want to know?"
Edward grinned wickedly. "That's not fair."
"No, you not sharing what you know—now that's not fair."
He seemed to be strategizing as they walked. They stopped outside the door to Beau's first class.
"She wants to know if we're secretly dating. And she wants to know how you feel about me," Edward finally said.
"Yikes." Beau tried to keep his expression innocent. "What should I say?"
People were passing them on the way to class, probably staring, but he was barely aware of them. It took all of his energy to look Edward in the eye. He felt like he was perched on the edge of a cliff and trying not to fall. Everything depended on what came next.
"Hmm," Edward said thoughtfully. He lifted a hand to remove the Mariners cap and smoothed the hair into place, exactly the way Beau liked it. "I suppose you could say yes to the first . . . if you don't mind—it's easier than any other explanation."
"I don't mind." His voice was quavering.
"And as for her other question . . . well, I'll be listening to hear the answer to that one myself." One side of his mouth pulled up into that uneven smile. Beau couldn't catch his breath fast enough to respond.
"I'll see you at lunch."
He watched Edward walk away, cap in hand, dumbfounded by this recent turn of events. Three people walking in the door stopped to gawk at him.
Beau hurried into class, flushed and irritated. Mind reading was cheating. Now he was even more worried about what he was going to say to Jessica. He felt naked without the Mariners cap and he suspected that was the point. Edward took away the one thing that made him feel like an insider. He was laying down the gauntlet. Well. Beau . . . also . . . had to lay down the gauntlet.
"Morning," Mike greeted him. "How was Port Angeles?"
Beau stiffened at the fake curious tone. Rumors were no doubt already swirling. But being seen with Edward effectively took Jessica off his hands, so he could afford to be nice to Mike. He might serve as an asset to Beau later on.
"It was great. You'll like the dress Jessica chose."
"Did she say anything about Monday night?"
"She said she had a really good time," Beau assured him. This might be easier than he thought.
"She did?"
"Most definitely."
The morning passed in a blur while Beau worried about how to explain things to Jessica. He agonized over whether Edward would really be listening to their conversation. How very inconvenient his little talent could be—when he wasn't playing Clark Kent.
Edward was right, of course. When he walked into Trig, Jessica was sitting in the back row, nearly bouncing off her seat in agitation. He reluctantly went to sit with her, trying to convince himself it would be better to get this over with as soon as possible. The information should come from him directly; he shuddered at the thought of Jessica Stanley filling in the blanks for everyone else.
"Tell me everything!"
"What do you want to know?" Beau hedged. Though he expected this questioning, he wasn't the only one who would be affected by it. Edward had secrets—more than even Beau—and yet, he seemed unconcerned with petty teenager gossip. To a supernatural being, it was probably no more irksome than a buzzing fly, but to Beau . . . it could shape the rest of his high school experience.
"What happened last night?"
"We had dinner and then he drove me home."
Jessica glared at him. "How did you get home so fast?"
"He drives like a maniac. It was terrifying." Beau hoped he heard that.
"Was it like a date—did you tell him to meet you there?"
"No," Beau shrugged, wondering how exactly he was supposed to accompany the girls to the store and see Edward, all in one evening, without them knowing. That plan required more stealth than even he was capable of. "I was very surprised to see him there."
"But he picked you up for school today?" she probed.
"Yes—that was a surprise, too. He noticed I didn't have a jacket last night."
"So are you going out again?"
Beau hesitated. "He offered to drive me to Seattle on Saturday because he thinks Big Red isn't up to it—does that count?"
"Yes," Jessica nodded.
"Well, then, yes."
"W-o-w." She exaggerated the word into three syllables. "Edward Cullen."
"I know," Beau agreed. Wow didn't even begin to cover it.
Jessica laid her hand on his and stroked it. "Well, I am really happy for you. Even though you've been lying to me this whole time. Why didn't you say anything? Coming out is hard, but I could have been there for you."
Beau let her see some crocodile tears forming in his eyes. "You're right, Jess. It is hard. I guess I was afraid you'd hate me or something."
"Absolutely not! Look, I admit, I was attracted to you. But now I know! It's perfect! You're my gay best friend, just like Will and Grace! Or even Stanford and Carrie!"
Beau struggled to keep a neutral expression on his face. Somehow, in her vapid way, Jessica was being sincere. He had no interest in being a straight girl's accessory, but now that she could see nothing would happen between them, he thought she might have the ability to be his friend. He flipped her hand so their fingers interlocked and she giggled.
"Wait a minute. Has he kissed you?"
"No," he mumbled, deflated. "It's not like that."
Jessica looked as disappointed as he did. She was handling the news that both of her crushes were gay with remarkable grace. "Do you think Saturday . . . ?"
"I really doubt it."
Mr. Varner cleared his throat from the front of the room. Jessica waited until his eyes were on the board before turning back to Beau. "What did you guys talk about?"
"I don't know, Jess, lots of stuff," Beau whispered back. "We talked about the English essay a little."
"Please, Beau," Jessica begged. "Give me some details."
"Well . . . okay. I've got one. Our waiter was all over him—it was really over the top. But . . . he didn't pay attention to him at all." Let him make what he could of that.
"That's a good sign," she nodded. "Was he good-looking?"
"Yeah, and older than us, probably nineteen or twenty."
"Even better. He must like you."
"I think so, but it's hard to tell. He's always so cryptic," Beau threw in for his benefit, sighing.
"I don't know how you're brave enough to be alone with him."
"What makes you say that?"
"He's so . . . intimidating. I wouldn't know what to say to him." Jessica made a face, probably remembering this morning or last night, when he turned the overwhelming force of his eyes on her.
"I do have some incoherency issues when I'm around him," Beau admitted.
"Oh well. He is unbelievably gorgeous." Jessica shrugged as if this excused any flaws. Which, in her book, it probably did.
"There's a lot more to him than that."
"Really? Like what?"
Beau wished he had let it go. Today was fraught enough, having to come out while completely unprepared for it. Now he had to worry about Edward listening at this exact moment.
"I can't explain it right . . . but he's even more unbelievable behind the face." The vampire who wanted to be good—who ran around saving people's lives so he wouldn't be a monster. He was a total contradiction. Definitely more than a pretty face.
"Is that possible?" Jessica was giggling again.
Beau ignored her, trying to look like he was paying attention to Mr. Varner's lecture.
"So you like him, then?" She wasn't about to give up—his friend or not, this was the gossip of the year.
"Yes," He said curtly.
"I mean do you really like him?"
"Yes," Beau repeated as his face reddened. He hoped that detail wouldn't register in her thoughts.
"How much do you like him?"
"Too much." Beau told her. "More than he likes me. But I don't see how I can help that."
Thankfully Mr. Varner called on Jessica for an answer. She didn't get a chance to bring up the subject again, and as soon as the bell rang, Beau took evasive action.
"In English, Mike asked me if you said anything about Monday night."
"You're kidding! What did you say?" Jessica gasped. His plan worked; she was completely sidetracked. Only her own romantic life superseded his own.
"I told him you said you had a lot of fun—he looked pleased."
"Tell me exactly what he said, and your exact answer!"
They spent the rest of the walk dissecting sentence structures and most of Spanish on a minute description of Mike's facial expressions. One part of him loathed filling this role for her, but he thought it might be politically expedient to be friends with Jessica during this weird time, knowing she had social clout. The other part of him was eager to keep the discussion from swinging back in his direction.
Then the bell rang for lunch. Beau jumped out of his seat, shoving books roughly in his backpack, reaching for his baseball cap until he remembered Edward took it away before class. Jessica was studying him carefully.
"You're not sitting with us today, are you?"
"I don't think so."
Outside the door to Spanish class, leaning against the wall—looking more like a Greek god than anyone had a right to—Edward was waiting for him.
"See you later, Beau." Jessica winked. Maybe it was better he didn't sit at their table today; she would be too busy relaying the gay good news to the group.
"Hello." Edward looked amused and irritated at the same time. He had been listening, that much was obvious.
"Hi."
Beau couldn't think of anything else to say, and Edward didn't speak—biding his time, probably—so it was a quiet walk to the cafeteria. Walking with Edward through the crowded lunchtime rush was a lot like his first day here; everyone stared.
Edward led the way into the lunch line, still not speaking, though his eyes flickered in his direction every few seconds, their expression speculative. It seemed the irritation was winning over amusement as time wore on. Beau fidgeted nervously with the zipper on his jacket. Though he had two inches of height on Edward, he couldn't have felt smaller.
"What are you doing?" Beau asked, watching the other boy fill a tray with food. "You're not getting all of that for me?"
"It's your usual portion, and the other half is for me."
He led the way to the same table they sat at last time. A group of seniors watched them take their seats, amazed. Edward seemed oblivious to the attention and placed the tray in front of Beau.
"Take whatever you want."
Beau picked up an apple. "I'm curious: what would you do if someone dared you to eat food?"
"You're always curious." Edward grimaced. He glared at Beau, lifted a slice of pizza off the tray, and deliberately bit off a mouthful. He chewed quickly and swallowed. Beau watched with wide eyes.
"If someone dared you to eat dirt, you could, couldn't you?"
Beau made a face. "I did once . . . on a dare. It wasn't so bad."
"I suppose I'm not surprised," Edward laughed. Then his eyes flashed to something across the cafeteria.
"Jessica's analyzing everything I do—she'll break it down for you later." He pushed the rest of the pizza toward Beau. The mention of Jessica brought a hint of his former irritation back to his features.
Beau switched from the apple to the pizza, eyes on his food, knowing Edward was about to start.
"So the waiter was good-looking last night."
"You really didn't notice?"
"No, I wasn't paying attention. I had a lot on my mind."
Beau made a sympathetic face. "Poor kid."
"Something you said to Jessica . . . well, it bothers me." His voice dropped lower and lower.
"I'm not surprised you heard something you didn't like. You know what they say about eavesdroppers."
"I warned you I would be listening," Edward reminded him.
"And I warned you that you didn't want to know everything I was thinking."
"You did," Edward agreed, but his voice was still rough. "You aren't precisely right, though. I do want to know what you're thinking—everything. I just wish . . . that you wouldn't be thinking some things."
Beau scowled. "That's quite a distinction."
"But that's not really the point."
"Then what is?" They were inclined toward each other across the table now. Beau had to remind himself that they were in a crowded cafeteria with, no doubt, many curious eyes on them. It was too easy to get wrapped up in their private, tense little bubble.
"Do you truly believe that you care more for me than I do for you?" Edward murmured, leaning closer as he spoke, his dark golden eyes piercing.
"You're doing it again," Beau muttered.
"What?"
"Dazzling me," Beau admitted, trying to focus on the task at hand.
"Oh."
"It's not your fault. You can't help it."
"Are you going to answer the question?"
Beau looked down, pulling his lip between his teeth. "Yes."
"Yes, you're going to answer, or yes, you really think that?" Edward was irritated again.
"Yes, I really think that." Beau kept his eyes on the table. The silence dragged on. He refused to be the first to talk, fighting hard against the temptation to peek at Edward's expression.
"You're wrong."
Beau glanced up at last to see his eyes were gentle.
"You can't know that." He wanted so badly to believe him, heart throbbing at the words, but he just couldn't.
"What makes you think so?"
Beau stared as he struggled to explain himself. Edward wasn't blinking, which was both weirding him out and making it difficult to concentrate. He held up one finger to stave off the impatient scowl. "Let me think."
"Well, aside from the obvious, sometimes it seems like you're trying to say goodbye when you're saying something else."
It was the best he could do to sum up the anguish Edward triggered in him.
"Perceptive," Edward whispered. "That's exactly why you're wrong though. And what did you mean, 'the obvious'?"
"Well, look at me. I'm just an ordinary guy. Well, except for bad things like all the near-death experiences and a pathological need to fit in. And look at you." He waved his hand toward Edward and all his bewildering perfection.
A flash of anger crossed Edward's expression, then, as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. "You don't see yourself very clearly, you know. I'll admit you're dead-on about the bad things, but you didn't hear what every human in this school was thinking on your first day."
Beau blinked in astonishment. "I don't believe it . . . "
"Trust me just this once—you are the opposite of ordinary."
His embarrassment was much stronger than the pleasure at the look in Edward's eyes as he spoke. However, Beau was quick to return to his original argument.
"But I'm not saying goodbye."
"Don't you see? That's what proves me right. I care the most, because if I can do it"—he shook his head, seeming to struggle with the thought—"if leaving is the right thing to do, then I'll hurt myself to keep from hurting you, to keep you safe."
"And you don't think I would do the same?"
"You'd never have to make that choice."
Abruptly his unpredictable mood shifted again. A mischievous, devastating smile appeared on his face. "Of course, keeping you safe is beginning to feel like a full-time occupation that requires my constant presence."
"No one has tried to do away with me today." Beau was grateful for the lighter subject. He didn't want to talk about goodbyes anymore.
"Yet."
"Yet," Beau agreed. He still had to get through Gym, and with the news spreading this fast, a knot of anxiety was forming in his chest.
"I have another question for you," Edward said casually.
"Shoot."
"Do you really need to go to Seattle this Saturday, or was that just an excuse to avoid saying no to all your admirers?"
Beau glowered. "Admirers?"
"The great many that you have," Edward chuckled. "If I'd asked you, would you have turned me down?"
"Probably not," Beau confessed. "But I would have canceled later—faked an illness or a sprained ankle."
"Why would you do that?"
"I'm not a dancer."
"That's not a problem." He was very confident. "It's all in the leading. But you didn't answer my question—are you resolved on going to Seattle, or do you mind if we do something different?"
As long as the "we" part was in, Beau didn't care about anything else.
"I'm open to alternatives, but I have one favor to ask—can I drive?"
"Why?"
"I already told Charlie I was going to Seattle. Also, your driving scares me."
He rolled his eyes. "Of all the things about me that could frighten you, it's my driving that you choose to worry about."
Beau grinned. "You'll really like Big Red."
"Won't you want to tell your father that you're spending the day with me?"
"Less is always more with Charlie. Where are we going, anyway?"
"The weather will be nice, so I'll be staying out of the public eye . . . and you can stay with me, if you'd like to."
"And you'll show me what you meant, about the sun?" Beau asked, excited by the idea of unraveling another one of the unknowns.
"Yes," Edward smiled. "But if you don't want to be . . . alone with me, I'd still rather you didn't go to Seattle by yourself. I shudder to think of the trouble you could find in a city that size."
Beau was offended. "Phoenix is three times bigger than Seattle. I'm more than capable—"
"But apparently," Edward went on as if he hadn't spoken, "your number wasn't up in Phoenix. So I'd rather you stayed near me."
Beau felt his heart sink at that line of thought, but he shook it off. "As it happens, I don't mind being alone with you."
"I know. You should tell Charlie, though."
"Why would I do that?"
Edward suddenly looked fierce. "To give me some small incentive to bring you back."
Beau gulped. But, after a moment of thought, he was sure. "I think I'll take my chances."
Edward exhaled angrily and looked away. Beau cleared his throat.
"Let's talk about something else."
"Okay, let's talk about your old school in Phoenix."
"I don't think so," Beau said sharply. He looked around to make sure they were out of earshot. As he cast his gaze around the room, he caught the eyes of Alice Cullen, staring at him. The others were looking at Edward. He looked away swiftly, back to Edward, and asked the first thing that came to mind.
"Why were you hunting in Goat Rocks last weekend? Charlie said there are a lot of bears in the area."
Edward stared at him as if he was missing something very obvious.
"Bears?" he gasped, and Edward smirked. "You know . . . bears are not in season."
"If you read carefully, the laws only cover hunting with weapons."
He watched Beau digest this information with a smile playing on his lips. Beau heard himself stammering.
"Bears?"
"Grizzly is Emmett's favorite."
"Hmm," Beau said, reaching for the pizza for an excuse to look away. "So, uh, what's your favorite? Mountain goat?"
Edward raised an eyebrow in disapproval. "Mountain lion."
"Ah," Beau said politely. He sipped his soda and tried to look indifferent to this information.
"Of course, we have to be careful not to impact the environment with injudicious hunting. We try to focus on areas with an overpopulation of predators—ranging as far away as we need. There's always plenty of deer and elk here, and they'll do, but where's the fun in that?"
"Where indeed," Beau nodded agreeably. Edward kept talking in an obvious attempt to make him uncomfortable. Beau felt his hand reaching for the brim of the hat and dropped it, realizing again it was not on his head.
"Early spring is Emmett's favorite bear season—they're just coming out of hibernation, so they're more irritable."
"Nothing more fun than an irritated grizzly bear."
Edward snickered. "Tell me what you're really thinking, please."
"I'm trying to picture it—but I can't. How do you hunt a bear without weapons?"
"Oh, we have weapons." He flashed his bright teeth in a brief, threatening smile. Beau fought back a shiver before it could expose him. "Just not the kind they consider when writing hunting laws. If you've ever seen a bear attack on television, you should be able to visualize Emmett hunting."
A fresh shiver went down his spine. Beau glanced across the cafeteria at Emmett. The thick bands of muscle that wrapped his arms and torso were somehow even more menacing now. He made the weight room guys back in Phoenix look puny.
"Are you like a bear, too?"
"More like the lion, or so they tell me. Perhaps our preferences are indicative."
He couldn't reconcile the image of Edward tousling with a mountain lion in a sweater that cost over a hundred dollars at the mall. "Perhaps. Is that something I might get to see?"
"Absolutely not!" His face was white now, eyes furious. Beau leaned back, stunned and—though he would never admit to him—frightened by his reaction.
"Too scary for me?"
"If that were it, I would take you out tonight," Edward said, his voice cutting. "You need a healthy dose of fear. Nothing could be more beneficial for you."
"Then why?"
"Later," Edward rose to his feet. "We're going to be late."
He was right; the cafeteria was nearly empty. Time became muddled when they spent time together. Beau jumped up, grabbing his bag from the back of the chair.
"Later, then." Beau agreed. He wouldn't forget.
A/N: Thank you to Rita01tx - totally forgot to give major props to our intrepid garbagemen who work tirelessly with or without a pandemic.
Next week: Gym class and a long overdue conversation about Phoenix.
Thank you for your reviews. They keep me going in this sad time. Stay safe all!