A/N: So someone had pointed out it was hard to tell the perspectives, so I just have the name of the perspective at the top. Hope this helps and thank you for pointing that out! Enjoy!
Beau
Edward Cullen is back. Apparently, he'd been sick, and according to Bella, he'd been a terrible patient. I filed this new information under the ever-growing list of reasons I didn't like him.
Through the next two classes, I gear up for biology. I won't say anything to him, and hopefully he won't say anything to me. He's been toying with my head all week, without even being here. I flickered between angry, nervous, and sad like a pinwheel.
I get there before him and take my seat, resolving not to even so much as look at him. Of course, this might prove difficult, considering we were doing a lab today. How strange, that Bella could be so warm and kind, while her brother was the complete opposite. Score one for nature, I suppose.
I notice him right away as he walks in, but I don't look up, doodling away. For some reason, I think of Renee, how she used to doodle everywhere, leaving small drawings or notes around. It makes me sad.
"Hello," he says, and my head shoots up. His voice is pure music, heavenly in the extreme. Still, I have so much to say, question's I'd love to hurl in his face, but my throat refuses to work. Not a single word passes through my lips.
"My name is Edward Cullen," he says, smiling slightly. Jesus Christ. "I didn't have a chance to introduce myself last week. You must be Beau Swan."
I'm a little taken aback that he called me Beau, but I guess Bella must've mentioned me at home. I nod my head, apprehensive.
Edward seems to falter a little, like he doesn't know what to make of me. It's strange, usually I'm an open book. Anyone can tell what I'm thinking just by looking at me.
"Alright," Mr. Banner says, getting everyone's attention. "You know what to do, get started."
"Would you like to start?" Edward says, gesturing at the microscope, meaning for me to go first. I sigh; I've done this lab before, back in Phoenix. Still, I take it, peering at the first slide. It doesn't more than a few seconds to identify it.
"Prophase," I tell him, confident.
"Would you mind if I looked?" he asks, reaching for the microscope. For a second, my hand brushes his and I yank mine back, stunned at the sudden coldness.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs, focusing on the slide. "Prophase."
I scowl but set up the next slide. Why had he doubted I was right? It feels a little childish, so I slide the microscope to him, letting him take the next turn.
"Anaphase," he says after a quick peek.
"May I?" I ask, deriving a kind of childish pleasure from twisting his own words back to him. Edward obliges me, eyes surprised. He smiles as he slides the microscope back.
"By all means," he says. I peek at the slide. Shoot. He'd been right.
"Slide three?" I ask, not daring to look at him. He drops the slide in my outstretched hand, and I set it up, identifying it. Hopefully, he won't feel the need to double check.
"Interphase," I say.
"I'll take your word for it," Edward says pleasantly. I'm a little blindsided by the melody of his voice, but I set the fourth slide up for him and pass the microscope. We finished the lab like that, not speaking, aside from announcing the answer for the other to write down.
I couldn't help but peek at him, take in his features when he was fixed on the slide or his paper. His eyes caught my attention the most, a strange amber color. I could have sworn he had dark eyes, before.
"Did you get contacts?" I blurt out without thinking. He scoffs in amusement.
"No," he says.
"Oh," I mumble. "I thought there was something different about your eyes."
Edward shrugs, looking anywhere but me. Have I offended him? Did he think that was a come on? Was he revolted that the gay kid was taking an interest in him? Anger rises in me like a tidal wave, but I keep quiet. There's never any use trying to argue with bigots.
Neither of us said a word until Mr. Banner came up to us.
"So, Edward, you didn't think Beauregard should get a turn with the microscope?" he asks. I want to scoff, but I hold my tongue.
"Beau," he corrects, surprising me. "Actually, he identified three of the five."
"You've done this lab before?" Mr. Banner asks me, incredulous.
"Not with onion root."
"Whitefish Blastula?"
"Yeah."
Mr. Banner heaves a world-weary sigh and walks on, muttering too quietly for me to hear. I look around, surprised to find my classmates still working. I resume my mindless doodling.
"It's too bad about the snow, isn't it?" Edward says after a few minutes. I don't look up to answer him.
"Not really."
"You don't like the cold," Edward guesses.
"Or the wet," I agree.
"Forks must be a very difficult place for you to live," he says. I chuckle darkly at the irony of him saying so.
"You have no idea," I say. I don't hate it here, but I miss the sun. I miss my mom. I even miss Phil.
"Why did you come here, then?" he asks. I sigh, setting aside my pen.
"It's complicated," I tell him, hoping it'll appease him.
"I think I can keep up," he presses. I frown thoughtfully. Truthfully, I don't even know exactly what I'm doing here. All I wanted was to make my mom happy, but I can feel her anxiety every time I talk to her. She won't settle until I do, but I really can't see myself doing so in a place like this.
"My mother got remarried," I start.
"That doesn't sound too complex," he says. "When did that happen?"
"Last September," I say, recalling the small but eclectic ceremony we'd held.
"And you don't like him," Edward assumes.
"No, Phil is fine," I correct him. I can't fault the man when he makes my mother so happy. "Too young, maybe, but nice enough."
"Why didn't you stay with them?" he asks, sounding genuinely interested.
"He travels a lot," I say. "He plays ball for a living." I smirk at the memory of Phil trying to teach me to play, how I'd accidently smashed the bat into his side, and how he'd been so gracious about it, insisting he was fine just to appease my mom.
"Have I heard of him?" Edward asks with a smile. It's strange, how normal and warm he looks like this, instead of a cold picture of male perfection.
"Probably not," I say, unable to get rid of my smile. "He doesn't play well. Strictly minor league. He moves around a lot."
"So, your mother sent you here so she could travel with him," he says, like he knows anything. It reignites the anger.
"No, she did not send me here," I say, defensive. "I sent myself."
I can see the way Edward tries to parse through the situation, trying to understand.
"I don't understand," he says after a beat, looking lost.
"She stayed with me at first, but it made her unhappy," I explain. "She missed him too much, so I decided it was best for me to spend a little quality time with Charlie."
"But now you're unhappy," he says, sounding frustrated.
"And?" I ask. He wasn't really right, not all the way. I loved my father, I really did. My friends were nice, especially Bella. I didn't really have room to complain.
"That doesn't seem fair," Edward says with a frown. It does absolutely nothing to mar his beauty. That wasn't fair.
"Hasn't anyone told you," I laugh. "Life isn't fair."
"I believe I have heard that somewhere," Edward says.
"So, that's all," I say a little lamely, though I'm not sure I want the conversation to end. He seems so normal—well, maybe not normal, but nice. Polite. Decent. Not at all what I'd imagined Edward might sound like.
"You put on a good show," he says after a moment. "I bet you're suffering more than you let anyone see."
It was such a strange thing to say that I couldn't respond. It was almost like he was reading my mind. Instead of answering, I looked around the classroom. Mr. Banner stands over Mike and his partner, correcting their work. Angela peers into her microscope, frowning thoughtfully.
"Am I wrong?" Edward presses. I shrug, uncomfortable. "I didn't think so."
"What does it matter to you?" I ask, suddenly pissed. No one I'd ever met gave me this kind of emotional whiplash before.
"That's a very good question," he mutters, leaning away from me. I sigh; this was a little more what I'd expected.
"Am I annoying you?" he asks, amused. I huff, shake my head.
"No, not you," I say. I couldn't believe I was letting Edward Cullen get to me like this. "I'm annoyed at myself. I'm too easy to read. My mother calls me an open book."
"On the contrary," he says, a strange edge to his voice. "I find you very difficult to read."
I raise my eyebrow at him. He's a little weird, actually, the way he speaks and the way he acts, like he's playing at acting like a real human being.
"You must be a very good reader, then," I reply.
"Usually," he agrees. Then, he smiles at me, wide and brilliant and beautiful.
For a moment, I can't breathe, caught up in the sheer gorgeousness that is Edward Cullen. My head spins and my heartbeat skyrockets. It's so terribly, horribly unfair.
"Alright, class, let's discuss our results," Mr. Banner says, getting everyone's attention. I focus my attention to the front, grateful for the distraction. At least I can breathe again.
I peek at Edward, ducking my head so he wouldn't notice me. He was leaning away, eyes locked on the board. I roll my eyes, unable to figure him out. Was he repressed, trapped in the closet and looking for some sort of kinship? Or was he just rooting around for material to hound me with. From what I understood, the only the Cullen that didn't keep to themselves was Bella, and she barely acted like she even had siblings at school.
When class ends, Edward bolts out smoothly, dodging the normal post-bell door jam. I hung around, waiting for Angela. She grins at me as she walks up, hooking her arm through mine. It was nice. Mike bounds up to us, a grimace on his face.
"That sucked," he says succinctly. "You're lucky you had Cullen as a partner."
"I didn't think it was that hard," I mumble, shrugging.
"Was he a douche about it?" Mike asks.
"Mike! He looked fine to me," Angela says as we walk out. She walks with us until the fork between the athletic building and the art building.
Sure enough, this was a definitive change from last Monday.
A/N: Alright, let me know what you guys thought!