"Billy! This is a surprise."
"It's been too long. I hope it's not a bad time," Billy answered as Jacob pushed his wheelchair toward the front door. The sound of his voice revived memories of the old days in La Push. Beau suddenly felt younger, like a child.
"No, it's great," Charlie said enthusiastically. "I hope you can stay for the game. I'm going to pretend I didn't see you behind the wheel, Jake."
"Aw, chief, we get permits early on the rez. And we were hoping you'd say that—our TV broke last week."
"Well, of course, Jacob was anxious to see Beau again."
Beau watched the other boy cringe and fought back a surge of remorse. Maybe he was too convincing on the beach. Eager to escape Billy's searching gaze, Beau cleared his throat.
"Are you guys hungry?"
"Naw, we ate just before we came."
"Dad? Food?"
"Sure," Charlie replied.
Beau dug around for a clean pan and tried to keep his mind on dinner. There was no need to panic about Billy just yet. It made little sense to discuss a treaty with vampires in front of Charlie, who wasn't in the tribe, or Jacob, who wasn't supposed to know about the treaty or vampires. He was being paranoid.
Jacob wandered in a few minutes later, looking both guilty and hungry. Beau passed him a grilled cheese and turned back to the stove for the others.
"So, how are things?"
"Pretty good. How about you? Any luck with the master cylinder?"
"Not yet," Jacob sighed. "We borrowed a car to drive over here today. Is something wrong with your truck?"
"Big Red? No, why?"
"Just wondering. You weren't driving it."
Beau stared down into the pan. "A friend drove me home after school."
"Nice ride," Jacob's voice was admiring. "I didn't recognize the driver, though. I thought I knew most of the kids around here. My dad seemed to know him from somewhere."
"You both know him," Beau said as he set a stack of plates on the counter. "It was Edward Cullen."
"Guess that explains it, then." The other boy looked embarrassed. "I wondered why my dad was acting so strange."
The earlier paranoia began creep back in. "That's right, he doesn't like the Cullens."
"Superstitious old man," Jacob muttered under his breath.
"Do you think he'll say anything to Charlie?"
"I doubt it," Jacob said after an awkward silence. "Charlie chewed him out pretty good last time. They haven't spoken much since—tonight is a sort of a reunion. I don't think he'll bring it up again."
"Oh."
The two boys carried the plates to the living room. Beau nodded along with the conversation and considered strategies if Billy decided to say something about the Cullens. If that was his plan, Billy never got an opening; Charlie seemed so excited by his best friend visiting that the discussion rarely ceased, even with the game on the television.
"Are you and your friends coming back to the beach soon?" Jacob asked when the game finally ended.
Beau cleared his throat. "I'm not sure."
"That was fun, Charlie," Billy was saying.
"Come up for the next game." Charlie sounded delighted at the prospect. Beau felt a stab of guilt for rushing this evening past, knowing how happy it made his father.
"Sure, sure, we'll be here. Have a good night." Billy's eyes shifted to meet Beau's, his smile disappearing. "You take care, Beau."
"Thanks, Billy."
The Swans stood watching until the car pulled away. Charlie turned to face him, still pleased by the unexpected visit. "I didn't get a chance to talk to you tonight. How was your day?"
Beau hesitated. "Good. My badminton team won all four games today."
"Switching from baseball to badminton?"
"No sir, absolutely not, Chief sir."
"Ha ha," Charlie chuckled. "So I guess it's good you'll be gone Saturday . . . I've made plans to go fishing with the guys from the station. The weather's supposed to be real warm. But if you wanted to put off your trip until someone can go with you, I'd stay home. I know I leave you here alone too much."
"Dad, you're doing a great job," Beau told him sincerely. "I've never minded being alone—I'm too much like you."
The answering smile made him relax. He was in the clear for tonight. Beau climbed the stairs toward his room, suddenly exhausted from the emotional upheaval of the day.
Beau slept better that night, too tired to dream. He woke to a pearl gray morning, blissful, deciding the previous evening was harmless. He had a hasty breakfast with Charlie and raced around the house getting ready. Edward was faster, however, and waited inside the shiny car with the windows down and engine off.
"You're hatless today."
"It's in my backpack," Beau confessed.
"How did you sleep?"
"Fine, how was your night?"
"Pleasant." Edward was amused; Beau felt like he was missing an inside joke.
"Can I ask what you did?"
"No," Edward grinned. "Today is still mine."
He wanted to know about people today: more about Renée, her hobbies, and what she and Beau did in their free time together. Then he wanted to know about the one grandmother he'd known, his few school friends, and his nonexistent dating life. Edward seemed surprised as Jessica and Angela that he had never dated anyone, even knowing what happened with the team.
"Really? Not one date?"
Beau shrugged. "Glenn Burke and Billy Bean came out after they were done with the MLB. I had too much to lose."
"And you never met anyone you wanted?"
"Not in Phoenix."
Edward frowned.
Lunch found them sitting at their usual table. Beau took advantage of the brief pause in conversation to take a bite of his bagel.
"I should have let you drive yourself today."
"Why?"
"I'm leaving with Alice after lunch."
"Oh." Beau tried to hide the disappointment in his voice. "No problem, I'll walk."
"I'm not making you walk home," Edward said impatiently. "We'll go get your truck and leave it here for you."
"I don't have the keys with me," Beau explained. "Seriously, I don't mind walking. It's good for me."
What he minded was losing time with him.
"Your truck will be here with the key in the ignition . . . unless you're afraid someone might steal it."
"All right," Beau agreed, ignoring the disparaging tone Edward took when discussing Big Red. There were a million places in the house those keys could be. Edward seemed to feel the challenge in his consent; he smirked, overconfident.
"So, where are you going?"
"Hunting. If I'm going to be alone with you tomorrow, I'm going to take whatever precautions I can." His face grew morose . . . and pleading. "You can always cancel, you know."
He refused to be convinced to fear Edward, no matter how real the danger might be. The choice had been made.
"No," Beau whispered. "I can't."
"Perhaps you're right," Edward murmured. His eyes seemed to be darkening by the minute. Beau forced himself to look away.
"What time will I see you tomorrow?"
"That depends . . . it's a Saturday. Don't humans like to sleep in on the weekends?"
"Not this human."
Edward smiled wryly. "The same time as usual, then. Will Charlie be there?"
"No, he's fishing tomorrow."
His voice turned sharp. "And if you don't come home, what will he think?"
Beau matched his cool tone. "He knows I need to do laundry. Maybe he'll think I fell in the washer."
They scowled at each other. Edward's anger was much more impressive. When he was sure he lost the glowering contest, Beau spoke again.
"What are you hunting tonight?"
"Whatever we find in the park. We aren't going far."
"Why are you going with Alice?"
"Alice is the most . . . supportive."
"And the others?" Beau asked, anxious now, when he realized they were outnumbered. "What are they?"
"Incredulous, for the most part."
Beau glanced at the family across the cafeteria. The other Cullens were staring off in different directions, exactly as they had been when Beau first arrived, but now they were down by one. Their beautiful, bronze-haired brother sat across from him, his golden eyes troubled.
"They don't like me."
"That's not it. They don't understand why I can't leave you alone."
"Frankly, neither do I."
Edward rolled his eyes toward the ceiling as if asking for heavenly patience. "I told you—you don't see yourself clearly at all. You're not like anyone I've ever known. You fascinate me."
Beau glared, sure that he was being teased.
"Having the advantages I do," Edward explained, touching his forehead discreetly, "I have a better than average grasp of human nature. People are predictable. But you . . . you never do what I expect. You always take me by surprise."
Beau looked away in embarrassment. His words made him feel like a science experiment. He found himself staring at the other Cullens as their brother spoke again.
"That part is easy enough to explain. But there's more . . . and it's not so easy to put into words—"
Suddenly, Rosalie, his blonde and breathtaking sister, turned to meet Beau's gaze. Her eyes were dark and cold. They stared at each other, thirty feet apart, and yet, Beau could feel the frost on his skin. She reminded him of Medusa—turning men to stone. He shivered.
Edward broke off mid-sentence and made an angry noise under his breath; it was almost a hiss. Rosalie turned away at the sound.
"I'm sorry about that. She's just worried. You see . . . it's dangerous for more than just me, if after spending so much time with you so publicly . . . "
"If?"
Edward was staring at his hands. "If this has an unhappy ending. Have you considered that?"
Of course Beau had considered it—then he rejected it. Logically, he knew he should have been frightened, but no fear arrived. Only a painful ache for Edward's clear anguish. And then he felt frustrated that Rosalie interrupted whatever he was about to say.
"And you have to leave now?" Beau asked.
"Yes," Edward said, lifting his head at last. "It's probably for the best. We still have fifteen minutes of that wretched movie left to endure in Biology—I don't think I could take anymore."
Beau jumped. Alice—inky hair in a halo around her elfin face—was suddenly standing behind her brother. He greeted her without looking away from Beau. "Alice."
"Edward," she answered. Her voice was a high soprano.
"Alice, Beau—Beau, Alice."
"Hello, Beau." Her obsidian eyes were unreadable, but she had a friendly smile. "It's nice to finally meet you."
"Hi Alice," Beau said, extending a hand in her direction. She looked surprised that he was willing to touch her. Alice took his hand in her tiny porcelain one and smiled again.
"Are you ready?"
"Nearly. I'll meet you at the car."
Alice left without another word. Beau watched her go, amazed by the fluid gait, before turning back to Edward.
"Should I say 'have fun,' or is that the wrong sentiment?"
"No, 'have fun' works as well as anything."
Beau tried to sound upbeat. "Have fun, then."
"I'll try," Edward grinned. "And you try to be safe, please."
"Safe in Forks—what a challenge."
"For you it is a challenge." His jaw hardened. "Promise."
"I promise to try to be safe," Beau said obediently. "I'll do the laundry tonight—that ought to be fraught with peril."
"Don't fall in," Edward mocked. Though not the mind reader, Beau knew his past lingered on Edward's mind, and that the latter's warnings were heartfelt.
"I'll see you tomorrow."
"It seems like a long time to you, doesn't it?" Edward mused.
Beau nodded glumly.
"I'll be there in the morning," he promised. Edward reached across the table to touch his face, lightly brushing along the cheekbone as he did almost every day this week, then followed his sister out the door. Beau stared after him until he was gone.
Beau was tempted to ditch the rest of the day, at the very least Gym, but a warning instinct stopped him. His absence would now be linked to Edward. And Edward worried about the time they spent together publicly . . . if things went wrong. Beau refused to dwell on the last thought. He had to put his energy toward making things safer for them.
Beau knew intuitively that tomorrow would be pivotal. Their relationship continued to balance on the point of a knife. They would fall off one edge or the other, depending entirely upon Edward's decision, or his instincts. There was nothing more terrifying or excruciating than the thought of turning away from Edward. It was an impossibility.
He walked to the parking lot after the final bell. Big Red was waiting in the Volvo's usual space. Beau shook his head, incredulous, when he found the key in the ignition.
There was a piece of paper folded on the seat. Beau got in and closed the door to the cab. Two words were written in his elegant script.
Be safe.
The roar of the truck, as he predicted, frightened him. Beau laughed at his own jumpiness. When he got home, he found the house just as he left it. The only thing missing were his keys, which now sat in his jacket pocket. He shook his head. Maybe he had hung them up after all.
Beau called Jessica to wish her luck for the dance. She offered the same wish for his day with Edward until he told her about the cancellation. She sounded more disappointed than necessary for a third-party observer. He said goodbye and looked for something else to do.
His father was absentminded at dinner. Beau thought he might be worried about something at work or he was really enjoying the lasagna—it was hard to tell with Charlie.
"You know, Dad . . . " Beau began, breaking into his reverie.
"What's that, Beau?"
"I think you're right about Seattle. I'll wait until a friend can go with me."
"Oh," Charlie said, surprised. "Oh, okay. Do you want me to stay home?"
"No, Dad, don't change your plans. I've got a million things to do . . . homework, laundry . . . I need to go to the library and to the grocery store. I'll be in and out all day . . . you go and have fun."
"I thought you said this library wasn't any good."
Beau struggled to contain his surprise. He made that comment over a week ago. Maybe his father wasn't as unobservant as he made him out to be. Then he realized Charlie was talking again and tried to pay attention.
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely, Dad. Besides, the freezer is getting dangerously low on fish—we're down to a two, maybe three years' supply."
"You're easy to live with, Beau."
Beau returned his crinkly-eyed smile. "I could say the same thing about you."
He started on his laundry after dinner. Unfortunately it was the kind of activity that only kept the hands busy. His mind had too much free time. It cycled endlessly between coming out to Charlie and anticipation for what lay in store tomorrow. Beau reminded himself that he'd made a choice and wasn't going back on it. They both had to make things safe.
Beau pulled the note out of his pocket and reread it a dozen times. He wanted him to be safe, Beau knew, and that included being safe from Edward himself. He just had to keep the faith that, in the end, desire would win out over everything else.
But a tiny voice in the back of his mind wondered if it hurt very much . . . if it ended badly.
By now it was late enough for an acceptable bedtime. Beau forced himself to avoid ghoulish thoughts by listening to a collection of Chopin's nocturnes, and soon sank into unconsciousness.
The next morning, Beau showered, shaved, then rushed around in a frenzy. He had to burn off the excess energy somehow. He smoothed the collar against his neck and straightened up the CDs he scattered on the floor last night.
He found the Mariners cap on the kitchen table and decided to leave it behind. He didn't need it when he was with Edward.
He had a mouthful of toothpaste when a quiet knock sent his heart thudding against his ribcage.
Edward waiting on the doorstep. The vampire was somber, but soon enough, a laugh burst out of him. "Good morning."
"What's wrong?" Beau glanced down, looking for a missing button, or an open fly.
"We match."
A martyred expression crossed Edward's face as he stood on the passenger side of the truck. Beau climbed into the driver's seat, reached over to unlock the door, and tried not to look smug.
"We made a deal. So, where to?"
"Put your seatbelt on—I'm nervous already."
Beau threw him a dirty look. "Where to?"
"Take the one-oh-one north."
It was surprisingly difficult to concentrate on the road with Edward watching. He compensated by driving more carefully than usual through the still-sleeping town.
"Were you planning to make it out of Forks before nightfall?"
"Big Red is old enough to be your car's grandfather—have some respect."
They left the houses behind soon enough. He turned right and drove until the pavement ended as instructed. Beau parked Big Red on the narrow shoulder and jumped out of the cab.
"What are you thinking?"
"Just wondering where we're going."
"It's a place I like to go when the weather is nice," Edward explained as he came around the front of the truck. "Did you tell your father what you were up to?"
"Nope," Beau said as he knotted the sweater around his waist. "I told him I have chores to do."
"But Jessica thinks we're going to Seattle together?"
"No, I told her you canceled on me—which is true."
"No one knows you're with me?" Edward demanded.
"That depends . . . I assume you told Alice?"
"That's very helpful, Beau," he snapped. "Are you so depressed by Forks that it's made you suicidal?"
Beau folded his arms defensively. "You said it might cause trouble if we're seen together publicly. I fixed it. What's the big deal?"
"So you're worried about the trouble it might cause me—if you don't come home?"
Beau shrugged. Fuming, Edward pulled off his sweater and tossed it through the open window of the truck. Finally, he started into the dark forest ahead. Beau stifled a gasp.
He was too perfect. There was no way this godlike creature was meant for him.
Edward turned back. "Do you want to go home?"
"No," Beau retorted, shouldering past perfection until he realized he had no idea where they were going.
"What's wrong?"
"I don't know where to go, so . . . you'll have to be very patient. We should get moving."
"I can be patient—if I make a great effort," Edward promised, trying to hold his gaze. He seemed to be working hard to be apologetic now, trying to lift Beau out of his sudden, unexplained dejection.
The hike was mostly flat. Edward would take the lead and hold the damp ferns aside for Beau to step through. When they climbed over fallen trees or boulders, Edward would guide him, a cool hand grasping his elbow, until the obstacle was behind them. The touch never failed to make Beau's heart race erratically. Twice, when that happened, he was sure Edward could hear the thud-thud of every beat.
Occasionally Edward would ask a random question he hadn't gotten to in the past two days of interrogation. He asked about birthdays, grade school teachers, and childhood pets. Beau had to admit he killed three fish in a row and gave up on the whole idea. Edward laughed at that, louder than usual, the bell-like echoes bouncing back to them from the empty woods.
"I do have two succulents," Beau said, panting as they climbed over yet another boulder. This route was a labyrinth of ancient trees, but Edward seemed perfectly at ease with it.
"Did you name them, like you named Big Red?"
"Never got around to it."
The light filtering through the canopy was changing. It was going to be a sunny day, just as Edward predicted. A thrill of excitement rolled quickly into impatience.
"Are we there yet?"
"Nearly," Edward smiled, pointing. "Do you see the brightness ahead?"
"Um, should I?"
"Maybe it's a bit soon for your eyes."
"Time to visit the optometrist," Beau muttered.
At long last, sunlight appeared ahead, tinged yellow instead of green. They reached the last fringe of ferns and stepped into the loveliest place Beau had ever seen. The meadow was small, perfectly round, and filled with wildflowers—violet, yellow, and soft white—just like the sea anemones in the tidal pools of First Beach. A stream bubbled nearby. The sun was overhead now, high noon, veiling the meadow in a haze of buttery sunshine.
Beau was awestruck. A place this lovely couldn't exist on the green alien planet. Not in this little rainy town.
Beau turned, wanting to share this moment with Edward, but he wasn't there. He stood at the entrance of the meadow, shaded by the canopy, watching with cautious eyes. Only then did Beau remember the enigma of Edward and the sun. He'd promised to share the secret.
Beau smiled encouragingly and beckoned Edward to join him. The latter held up a warning hand. Beau paused, rocking back on his heels, and waited.
Edward seemed to take a deep breath before he stepped into the glow of the midday sun.
Edward in the sunlight was shocking. Beau stared at him for what felt like hours, terrified this otherworldly creature would vanish if he looked away. He couldn't get used to it. Edward's skin sparkled as if a thousand tiny diamonds were embedded in the surface. He lay still in the grass, a perfect statue, shimmering like a crystal.
Now and then his lips would move. He was singing to himself, too low for the human ear to catch.
The meadow, so spectacular at first, paled next to his magnificence.
Beau reached out one hesitant finger to stroke the back of his shimmering hand. When he looked up again, Edward's eyes were open, watching him. They were butterscotch today, warm, light after hunting. A playful smile turned up the corners of his lips.
"I don't scare you?"
"No more than usual," Beau assured him. He inched closer, braver this time, extending an entire hand to touch Edward's forearm. "Do you mind?"
"No. You can't imagine how that feels."
Beau lightly trailed a hand over the perfect forearm muscles. He followed the bluish veins up to the elbow then changed course, flipping Edward's palm over to watch the skin catch the light. It glittered like a gemstone.
"Tell me what you're thinking. It's still so strange for me, not knowing."
"You know, the rest of us feel that way all the time," Beau reminded him.
"It's a hard life. But you didn't tell me."
Beau hesitated. "I was wishing I knew what you were thinking."
"And?"
"I was wishing I could believe you're real. And that I wasn't afraid."
Edward's voice was a soft murmur. "I don't want you to be afraid."
He knew what Edward couldn't truthfully say—that he didn't need to be afraid. That there was nothing to fear.
"Well, that's not exactly the fear I meant, though that's certainly something to think about."
Edward sat up so quickly Beau missed it. Their faces were only inches apart now. Beau might have—should have—flinched away from the unexpected closeness, but he couldn't. The golden eyes were mesmerizing.
"What are you afraid of, then?"
Beau couldn't answer. Then, without thinking, he leaned forward.
At once Edward was gone. In the time it took for Beau to realize where he vanished, Edward was twenty feet away, standing in the shade of a fir tree.
His empty hands stung. He was hurt—shocked. "I'm . . . sorry . . . Edward."
"Give me a moment."
Edward walked back at a human pace. He stopped, still several feet away, and sat on the ground. His smile was apologetic.
"I am so very sorry. Would you understand what I meant if I said I was only human?"
Beau nodded, not able to smile at the joke yet, before he recognized the familiar sensation of adrenaline surging through his veins. He was afraid. And by now Edward knew it.
"I'm the world's best predator, aren't I? Everything about me invites you in—my voice, my face, even my smell. As if I need any of that!"
Then he was gone again, faster than even Superman, circling the meadow in half a second.
"As if you could outrun me."
Edward effortlessly ripped off a tree branch. He lifted it, aimed the branch like a javelin, and threw it at another tree. The tree split on impact. Before Beau could process these details, Edward was there, not two feet from where he sat now.
"As if you could fight me off," he said gently.
Beau sat without moving. He was more frightened of him than he had ever been. Gone was the carefully cultivated facade. Edward had never been less human . . . or more beautiful. Ashen, eyes wide, Beau sat like a bird locked in the eyes of a snake. The fear he experienced in the locker room, and then again in Port Angeles, could not compare to this moment.
Edward's eyes glowed with an animal excitement. Then, as the seconds passed, they dimmed. His expression slowly folded into a mask of ancient sadness.
"Don't be afraid. I promise . . . I swear not to hurt you."
Beau watched him approach until they sat just a foot apart.
"Please forgive me. I can control myself. You caught me off guard. But I'm on my best behavior now. I'm not thirsty today, honestly."
At that Beau had to laugh. It was shaky and breathless. Stiff.
"Are you all right?" Edward reached out, carefully now, to place his marble hand back in Beau's.
Beau dropped his eyes, then looked up again, finding only repentance waiting for him. He smiled back, timidly, tracing fresh lines on the icy skin.
"So, where were we, before I behaved so rudely?" His voice held the cadence and propriety of an earlier century.
"I honestly can't remember."
"I think we were talking about why you were afraid, besides the obvious reason."
"Oh, right."
"Well?"
Beau searched for the right thing to say. The seconds ticked by.
"How easily frustrated I am," Edward sighed.
Beau had to remember this was new to the both of them and took heart at this realization. Though Edward had years of life experience, this was hard for him, too. He'd come of age at a different time.
"I was afraid . . . because, well, for obvious reasons, I can't stay with you. And I'm afraid that I'd like to stay with you, much more than I should."
"Yes," Edward agreed. "That is something to be afraid of, indeed. Wanting to be with me. That's really not in your best interest. I should have left a long time ago. I should leave now. But I don't know if I can."
"I don't want you to leave," Beau mumbled.
"Which is exactly why I should. But don't worry. I'm essentially a selfish creature. I crave your company too much to do what I should."
"I'm glad."
"Don't be!" Edward withdrew his hand, more gently this time; his voice was harsher than usual. Harsh for him, but still more beautiful than any human voice. It was hard to keep up—his frequent mood changes always left Beau one step behind, dazed.
"It's not only your company I crave! Never forget that. Never forget I am more dangerous to you than I am to anyone else."
"I don't understand."
"How do I explain?" Edward mused, placing one hand back into Beau's grasp. "And without frightening you again . . . hmm . . . "
Beau tightened his grip on that hand, knowing, sadly, if Edward wanted to pull away, he was powerful enough to do so.
"That's amazingly pleasant, the warmth."
Beau watched Edward twine their fingers together. "You know how everyone enjoys different flavors of ice cream? Some people love chocolate, others prefer strawberry?"
He nodded.
"Sorry about the food analogy, it seems like the only thing you could relate to. Perhaps I should have changed ice cream to something more addicting for humans, like alcohol, or heroin."
"Addiction is addiction. So what you're saying is, I'm your brand of heroin, Mr. Hyde?" Beau teased, trying to lighten the mood. Edward seemed to appreciate the effort.
"Yes, you are exactly my brand of heroin. And today I'm trying to be the good doctor Jekyll."
"Does that happen often, the . . . craving?"
"I spoke to my brothers about it. To Jasper, every one of you is much the same. He's the most recent to join our family. It's a struggle for him to abstain at all. He hasn't had time to grow sensitive to the differences in smell, in flavor . . . sorry."
"I don't mind," Beau assured him. "Please don't worry about offending me, or frightening me, or whichever. That's the way you think. I can understand, or I can try at least. Just explain however you can."
"Jasper wasn't sure if he'd ever come across someone who was as appealing as you are to me. Which makes me think not. Emmett has been on the wagon longer, so to speak, and he understood what I meant. He says it happened twice for him, one stronger than than the other."
"And for you?"
"Never."
The word hung there in the warm breeze. Beau almost didn't want to know the answer to the next question. But the words came out anyway. "What did Emmett do?"
It was exactly the wrong thing to ask. Edward's face darkened. He looked away, as if steeling himself to answer, but he did not, or, more likely, could not.
"I guess I know."
"Even the strongest of us fall off the wagon, don't we?"
"What are you asking? My permission?" Beau's voice was sharper than he intended. He tried to make his tone kinder, guessing—no, knowing—what this type of honesty could cost someone. "I mean, is there no hope, then?"
How calmly he could discuss his own death! But he had flirted with death already, certainly more than his fair share. Sometimes he thought everything that came after the beating was a dream. A dream, he thought, or the afterlife. Maybe he was already dead, and Edward was some kind of reward for his pain.
"No, no!" Edward was instantly contrite. "Of course there's hope! I mean, of course I won't . . . it's different for us. Emmett . . . these were strangers he happened across. It was a long time ago, and he wasn't as . . . practiced, as careful, as he is now."
"So . . . " Beau paused. "If we met . . . in a dark alley or something . . . "
"It took everything I had not to jump up in the middle of that class full of children and—" Edward stopped abruptly. "When you walked past me, I could have ruined everything Carlisle has built for us, right then and there. If I hadn't been denying my thirst for the last, well, too many years, I wouldn't have been able to stop myself."
Edward was scowling now. Both boys thought back to that fateful January day. It felt like eons ago.
"You must have thought I was possessed."
"I couldn't understand why," Beau admitted. "How you could hate me so quickly . . . I thought it was something to do with who I am. With what I am."
"To me, it was like you were some kind of demon, summoned straight from my own personal hell to ruin me. I thought of a hundred different ways to lure you from the room. And I fought them back, thinking of my family, what I could do to them. I had to run out, to get away before I could say the words that would make you follow . . . "
Beau couldn't speak for a moment. How silly his first-day musings seemed now. Edward hadn't been fighting against his homophobia—he was fighting against his homicidal instincts.
"You would have come."
Beau was equally certain. "Without a doubt."
Edward frowned at that. "And then as I tried to rearrange my schedule to avoid you, you were there—in that close, warm little room, the scent was maddening. I so very nearly took you then. There was only one other frail human there—so easily dealt with."
Beau shivered in the warm sun, recalling these memories anew through a predator's eyes, only now grasping the danger. Poor Ms. Cope. How close they both were to death.
"I ran away to Alaska." Edward sounded ashamed, as if admitting a great cowardice. "I spent two days there, with some old acquaintances . . . but I was homesick. I hated knowing I'd upset my adopted family. I convinced myself it was weak to run away. I'd dealt with temptation before, not of this magnitude, not even close, but I was strong. Who were you, an insignificant little boy"—he grinned suddenly—"to chase me from the place I wanted to be? So I came back."
And so he did. Precautions were taken—extra hunting. Further complications arose when his telepathy didn't work on Beau's mind. There was no way of knowing, other than through simple human conversation, what Beau was thinking. And what he suspected.
Beau tapped his forehead. "Freak mind."
"I was eager to decipher some of your thoughts. But you were too interesting, I found myself caught up in your expressions . . . and every now and then you would stir the air with your hand and the scent would stun me again . . . "
Then the van incident happened. Beau thought back to the squealing tires. Another brush with death. Maybe his number really was up.
Edward squeezed his hand with more pressure Beau expected. "All I could think at the time was, 'Not him.'"
Common sense told Beau he should be terrified. Instead he was relieved to finally understand. He was filled with compassion for Edward's suffering, even now, as he confessed the desire to drink Beau's blood.
His voice was faint. "And in the hospital?"
"I was appalled. I couldn't believe I had put us in danger after all, put myself in your power—you of all people. As if I needed another motive to kill you."
They both flinched as that word slipped out. "But it had the opposite effect. I fought with Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper when they suggested that now was the time . . . it was the worst fight we've ever had. Carlisle sided with me and Alice. Esme told me to do whatever I had to in order to stay."
But despite Edward's hostility, Beau kept his word. He found himself feeling proud that he stuck to his principles, no matter how dangerous they could be.
"And for all that," he continued, "I'd have fared better if I had exposed us all at that first moment, than if now, here—with no witnesses and nothing to stop me—I were to hurt you."
"Why?"
"Beaufort. Beau," Edward sighed. "I couldn't live with myself if I ever hurt you. You don't know how it's tortured me. The thought of you, still, white, cold . . . to never see you blush scarlet again, to never see that flash of intuition in your eyes when you see through my pretenses . . . it would be unendurable. You are the most important thing to me now. The most important thing to me ever."
Beau struggled to keep up with the direction their conversation had taken. From the cheerful topic of his impending demise to declarations of love. He felt like he had been waiting for this moment since the first time he laid eyes on Edward Cullen.
"You already know how I feel, of course. I'm here . . . which roughly translated, means I'd rather die than stay away from you. I'm an idiot."
"You are an idiot," Edward agreed with a chuckle. The two boys laughed together at the idiocy and sheer impossibility of such an event.
"And so the lion fell in love with the lamb."
Beau made a face at being compared to a barnyard animal, but inwardly, he thrilled at the words. "Stupid lamb."
"What a sick, masochistic lion."
"Tell me why you ran from me before."
His smile faded. "You know why."
"No, I mean exactly what did I do wrong?" He stroked the back of Edward's hand. "This seems to be all right."
"You didn't do anything wrong, Beau. It was my fault."
"But I want to help, if I can, to not make this harder for you."
"Well . . . most humans instinctively shy away from us. I wasn't expecting you to come so close. It was the smell of your throat."
Beau lifted a hand to shield his newly shaven neck. "Okay, then. No throat exposure."
It worked; he laughed. "No, really, it was more the surprise than anything else."
Edward paused for a moment, then placed a hand on the side of Beau's neck. It rested over the carotid artery, where, underneath, his heart dutifully pumped blood to his brain. Beau didn't move. He expected to feel terror, but it didn't come. There were, however, other feelings . . .
"You see," Edward said. "Perfectly fine."
Beau hadn't moved. He only wished his pulse would slow down. Surely Edward could feel it racing underneath his palm.
"The blush on your cheeks is lovely," Edward murmured. He moved to cradle Beau's face in his marble hands. "Be very still."
Slowly, never looking away, Edward leaned forward. Then abruptly, gently, he rested his cold cheek against the base of Beau's throat. Beau found himself unable to move even if he wanted to.
With deliberate slowness, Edward's hands slid down the sides of his neck. Beau shivered, but those hands didn't pause as they softly moved to his broad shoulders, then stopped.
Edward came to rest with the side of his face pressed tenderly against Beau's chest.
Listening to his heart.
"Ah," he sighed.
Beau wasn't sure how long they sat that way. It could have been hours. Eventually his pulse quieted. He wanted to run his hand through Edward's bronze hair to see if it was as soft as it looked. But he knew at any moment it could be too much, and his life could end, so quickly he might not even notice. Yet the fear never returned. He couldn't think of anything except that Edward was touching him. And then, too soon, he let go.
"It won't be so hard again," Edward said with satisfaction. His eyes were peaceful.
"Was that very hard for you?"
"Not nearly as bad as I imagined it would be. And you?"
"No, it wasn't bad . . . for me."
"You know what I mean." Edward took Beau's hand placed it against his own cheek. "Here. Do you feel how warm it is?"
Beau barely noticed the temperature. He could finally touch him, almost freely, something he had been afraid to hope for since the first time they met.
"Don't move."
No one could be still like Edward. He closed his eyes and became a stone.
Beau took care not to make any unexpected movements. He explored, tracing one fingertip as lightly as a butterfly's wing, pausing at his lips. Beau felt them part under his touch. He wanted to lean in, to inhale the scent of him, but retreated. He didn't want to push too hard.
The golden eyes opened. Hungry. Not in a way to make him afraid, but rather to tighten the muscles in the pit of his stomach.
"I wish you could feel the complexity . . . the confusion . . . I feel. That you could understand."
"Tell me."
"I don't think I can. I told you, the hunger . . . the thirst . . . deplorable creature that I am, I feel for you. And I think you can understand that, to an extent. Though, as you are not addicted to any illegal substances, you probably can't empathize completely."
He touched Beau's mouth with a cold fingertip. "There are other hungers. Hungers I don't even understand, that are foreign to me."
"I may understand that better than you think."
"I'm not used to feeling so human. Is it always like this?"
Beau shook his head. "I wouldn't know."
"I don't know how to be close to you," he admitted. "I don't know if I can."
Beau leaned forward cautiously and laid his cheek against Edward's chest.
"This is enough," he sighed. In a very human gesture, Edward put his arms around him, pressing his face against Beau's hair. Just as Beau wanted to do in their earlier embrace.
"You're better at this than you give yourself credit for."
"I have human instincts—they may be buried deep, but they're there."
They sat together for another immeasurable moment. Beau wondered if Edward as unwilling to move as he was. But he could see the fading light in the distance, the shadows of the forest growing longer, and sighed again.
"You have to go."
"I thought you couldn't read my mind."
It sounded like he was smiling. "It's getting clearer."
They stood up and brushed the grass off their jeans.
"Can I show you something?" Edward asked, a sudden excitement flaring in his eyes.
"Show me what?"
"I'll show you how I travel in the forest. But don't worry. You'll be very safe and we'll get back to Big Red much faster."
Beau was wary. "Will you turn into a bat?"
"Like I haven't heard that one before!"
"Right, I'm sure you get that all the time."
"Come on, little coward, climb on my back."
Beau laughed at him. "You want me to climb on your back? Like a piggyback ride?"
Edward took a step in his direction. "That's exactly what I want."
"But I'm taller than you! This isn't going to work."
Edward reached for him anyway. Beau groaned. This was going to be humiliating.
"I'm a bit heavier than your average backpack."
"Hah!" he snorted. Beau had never seen him in such high spirits before. Then he flinched, startled, when Edward pressed his palm to his face and inhaled deeply.
"Easier all the time," he muttered.
And then he was running.
Edward streaked through the dark, thick underbrush of the forest like a bullet, like a ghost. There was no sound, no evidence that his feet touched the earth. His breathing never changed, never indicated any effort. But the trees flew by at deadly speeds, always missing them by inches.
Beau was too terrified to close his eyes. He felt like he was stupidly sticking his head out the window of an airplane. And, for the first time in his life, Beau felt the first warnings of motion sickness.
Then it was over. It took hours to reach Edward's meadow, and now, in a matter of minutes, they were back at the truck.
"Exhilarating, isn't it?"
He stood motionless, waiting for Beau to climb down. He tried, but his muscles wouldn't respond.
"Beau?" Edward asked, anxious now.
"I think I need to lie down."
"Oh, sorry." He waited, but Beau still couldn't move.
"I think I need help."
Edward laughed quietly as he loosened the stranglehold around his own neck. There was no resisting the iron strength of his hands. Then he carefully placed Beau on the springy ferns.
"How do you feel?"
"Dizzy."
"Put your head between your knees."
Beau tried that. It helped a little. The moments passed and eventually he could raise his head. There was a hollow ringing sound in his ears.
"I guess that wasn't the best idea."
Beau's voice was weak. "No, it was very interesting."
"Hah! You're as white as a ghost—no, you're as white as me!"
Beau found the strength to look put out. "I think I should have closed my eyes."
"Remember that next time."
"Next time!" Beau groaned. He wasn't sure he could handle a next time.
Edward laughed, unaffected, still radiant.
"Show-off."
"Open your eyes, Beau," he said quietly. "I was thinking, while I was running . . . "
"About not hitting the trees, I hope."
"Silly Beau," he chuckled. "Running is second nature to me, it's not something I have to think about."
"Show-off," Beau repeated.
"No, I was thinking there was something I wanted to try."
He took Beau's face in his hands again. The latter couldn't breathe.
Edward hesitated, not in the normal way, the human way. Not the way a man might hesitate before he kissed a man, to gauge his reaction, to see how he would be received. Perhaps he would hesitate to prolong the moment, that ideal moment of anticipation, sometimes better than the kiss itself.
Edward hesitated to test himself, to see if this was safe, to make sure he was still in control of his need.
And then their lips met.
Blood boiled underneath Beau's skin. He gasped. He knotted his fingers in that bright bronze hair, delighted to find that it was softer than he expected. Something warm blossomed in Beau's chest and surged through his entire body. His lips parted as he felt the sparks of electricity return without warning.
Edward lurched back almost at once.
"Oops."
"That's an understatement."
Edward's eyes were wild. All the progress made today appeared to have been thrown out the window.
"Should I . . . ?"
His hands refused to let Beau move so much as an inch. "No, it's tolerable. Wait for a moment, please."
Beau watched, trapped, as the excitement in Edward's eyes faded. Then he smiled a surprisingly impish grin.
"There," he said, obviously pleased with himself.
"Tolerable?" Beau asked, blushing.
Edward laughed aloud. "I'm stronger than I thought. It's nice to know."
"I wish I could say the same. I'm sorry."
"You are only human, after all."
"Thanks so much." Beau took his icy hand, needing the support more than he thought. His balance had not yet returned.
"Are you still faint from the run? Or was it my kissing expertise?"
How lighthearted, how human he seemed as he laughed. He was a different Edward now.
"I think it's some of both."
"Maybe you should let me drive."
"Big Red? With your leadfoot? No way!"
"I can drive better than you on your best day," Edward teased. "You have much slower reflexes."
"I'm sure that's true, but I don't think my nerves, or my truck, could take it."
"Some trust, please, Beau."
"Nope. Not a chance."
Edward might have let him drive if Beau hadn't wobbled again. Then his arm became an inescapable snare.
"Beau, I've already expended a great deal of personal effort at this point to keep you alive. I'm not about to let you behind the wheel of a vehicle when you can't even walk straight. Besides, friends don't let friends drive drunk."
"Drunk?"
"You're intoxicated by my very presence." Edward was smirking.
Drunk and defeated, Beau tossed the key through the air, unsurprised when Edward caught it. "Just take it easy on Big Red, please."
"I will."
"Are you not affected at all? By my . . . presence?" Beau tried not to sound insecure about it.
Again his features transformed, the expression there becoming soft. Edward didn't answer at first. He backed the taller boy against the truck with only a few steps. Beau felt his pulse take off, the heartbeat surging faster than a hummingbird.
Edward leaned forward to brush his lips along Beau's jaw. "Regardless, I have better reflexes."
A/N: I made a few graphics for the story over at my Tumblr (twistedkey). Take a look! If you have a Tumblr, drop it in the review and I'll follow back.
Thank you for reading!