A/N: So, one of the biggest issues I have with the books is that there's not enough of a fall period, where Beau and Edward both are struggling with their feelings before they come into that. Let me know if it's coming across here. Enjoy!
Beau
By the time I get to lunch, Edward's already gone.
I look over to his table, finding his usual spot void. His other siblings are in their places, and Bella's already at our table, charming some basketball jock into going to prom with her. I watch for a second as she twirls her hair and bats her eyelashes. Predictably, guy's eating this up, and why shouldn't he? Bella is stunning, with her warm brown skin, her enticing dark eyes, and her black ringlets that fall elegantly past her shoulder. Not only was she beautiful, but she was vibrant, more alive and warmer than anyone I knew. The boy wasn't good enough for her.
I follow Jess through the lunch line, only grabbing myself a soda. We were supposed to be doing a blood typing lab today, and I really didn't think it'd be wise to eat before that. I'd considered skipping, but then immediately dismissed the idea; what would Charlie think?
"Edward Cullen's staring at you again," Jess says, snagging my attention back. "I wonder why he's sitting alone?"
I follow her gaze to where Edward was indeed sitting at a table, alone, on the far side of the cafeteria. I blink, befuddled. How had I missed him? What was this deviation?
Then, even stranger, I watch as he beckons me over, mouth quirked in an attractive smirk. Cocky, arrogant bastard.
Stranger still, he winks.
"Does he mean you?" Jess asks, just as confounded as I was. I shrug, mind whirring to find an explanation.
"Maybe he needs help with his biology homework," I say. In truth, I figure it's because he wants to take back his offer to carpool to Seattle, wants to do it publicly to embarrass me. I haven't told anyone but Bella about it, and she'd seemed weary, reinforcing my idea that it had been a dreadful prank. "Better go see what he wants."
I walk over slowly, tripping twice on my way over. I've caught Bella's eye now, and she watches, face impassive as I stand by her brother's table.
"What don't you join me today?" I peek over at Bella, only to find her looking worried. So yes, a prank then. Still, I sat, taking care to keep plenty of space between us.
"This is… different," I manage, scrutinizing him. Edward tilts his head, considering my words.
"Well," he says. "I've decided that if I'm going to hell, I'd might as well do it in style."
What the hell did he mean by that? I wait for him to explain, to actually say something that makes sense, but he doesn't bother.
"What the hell are you talking about?" I ask, already tired. Being around Edward exhausted me, but I couldn't get enough of it.
"Never mind," he says, smiling at his own private joke. "I think your friends are angry with me for stealing you away."
"They'll survive," I assure him, rolling my eyes. It was boy season; they'd barely notice I was gone.
"I may not give you back, though," he says, wicked glint in his eyes. I couldn't help myself, so I gulp. Edward laughs softly, musical and brilliant.
"You look worried," he says, grinning brightly at me. Was this… was he flirting with me?
"No," I say, grimacing at the way my voice breaks over the word. "Surprised actually. What brought this on?"
"I told you earlier—I got tired of trying to stay away from you. So, I'm giving up." I hadn't understood what he meant this morning, when he's offered to come to Seattle with me, but I thought I understood now. Was he coming out? Trying to find acceptance in me where he couldn't find it in his family. For one brief second, I was irrationally angry on his behalf, but then I remember Bella, who was kind and accepting and tolerant. Surely, she'd been on her brother's side?
"Giving up?" I say slowly, fishing for clarification.
"I've giving up trying to be good," he declares. I roll my eyes. So, fucking theatrical.
"It's not exactly a sin," I tell him, deadpan. Edward laughs a little, shaking his head.
"You and I are not talking about the same thing," he tells me, winking conspiratorially at me. Okay, so now I'm really lost. Edward sighs, nodding, and I realize I've just said that out loud.
"Yes," he says. "I always end up saying too much when I speak with you."
"Well," I say sardonically. "Don't worry about it, 'cause I didn't catch any of it."
I scrutinize him carefully, trying to figure out what was going on in his head. It was so strange, how Bella could be so light and open, while Edward was shrouded in mystery.
"So, we're cool?" I confirm. Edward purses his lips, tilting his head to the side like he was thinking.
"Yes," he muses. "I suppose we are. Although, I will say, I'm not a good friend for you to have."
"You keep saying that," I point out, intrigued.
"Because you fail to listen," he counters easily. "If you're smart, you'll listen."
"You've made it pretty damn clear what you think of my intellect." Edward grimaces, shrugging apologetically. I sigh. "So, just to be clear, we're friends as long as I'm being not-smart?"
"Essentially," he says lightly. He watches me for a moment, and I just know I'm slowly turning pink. I look so stupid when I flush, like a blotchy watermelon. "What are you thinking?"
"I'm trying to figure out what you are," I blurt. A second later, I'm horrified. In an effort to understand just what the hell happened with the car, I'd decided that Edward might not have a typical human boy. I'd oscillated between Barry Allen or Clark Kent, but they both seemed too stupid to admit out loud.
"And? Are you having any luck with that?" he asks, leaning away. Shit, I'd weirded him out. Of course, I had. Here I was adding to the list of reasons not to like me. I flush like an idiot, praying he'll drop it.
"Won't you tell me?" he asks sweetly. My resolve wavers for a second but I hold onto it, desperate.
"Too embarrassing," I mumble, hoping he doesn't catch it.
"I won't laugh," he promises. I don't respond, looking squarely at my lemonade bottle. "It's particularly frustrating, you know." I look up at him suddenly, my own annoyance licking up, begging to be released.
"You want to talk about frustrating?" I challenge. Edward seems to understand where I'm going and holds his hands up in a gesture of peace.
"You've got a bit of a temper," he remarks.
"I just don't like double standards," I clarify. "Or bigots." That last one takes him by surprise, and he nods, very serious. Suddenly, he smiles.
"What?" I ask, more confused than annoyed.
"Mike Newton's wondering if you're going to fight me," he explains. "He hopes you will. He'd back you up if you took a swing." He breaks off, chuckling, and I shake my head. I might get angry sometimes, but I'm not violent. That's a teenage boy thing that I've always hated; everyone expects us to settle things with our fist, and we're never even given an opportunity to talk things out reasonably. It's one of the many reasons I'm thankful for Renee, who always reasoned with me like I was her equal.
"I'm not going to fight you," I tell him coolly. Edward nods, still grinning.
"You'd be justified," he reminds me. It's almost tempting.
We lapse into a silence, and I mull things over. We were cool yes, but for how long? When would he go back to ignoring me? What did he want from me?
"Listen, do me a favor," I say. "Give me a heads up the next time you decide you're no good for me and start ignoring me, okay?"
"Sounds fair," he says, smiling softly. "Can I ask for a favor in return?"
"Okay," I agree.
"Tell me a theory," he says, looking at me beseechingly. Crap.
"Uh, no, not that," I say quickly, staring at my soda. Edward leans in, looking at me through his gorgeous, his gemstone eyes glittering. Fuck, I thought dreamily, there goes the rest of my resolve.
"Uh," I start, a little breathless. "Bitten by a radioactive spider?" He scoffs, unimpressed.
"That's not very creative," he criticizes me.
"Well, that's all I've got," I say, a little put out. I look around, noticing the room is pretty much devoid of students. The last stragglers are heading out. I jump up. "We're going to be late."
"Oh, I'm not going to class," Edward says serenely, leaning back in his seat. Christ, he could put any male model to shame. "It's healthy to skip class every once in a while."
"Well," I struggle awkwardly. "I'm going."
"I'll see you around, then," he says, fluttering his fingers in a little wave. I roll my eyes, giving him a mock salute back.
I make my way to class quickly, and thankfully, I make it before Mr. Banner. Everyone's talking, some nervous, some excited. I glance at my empty work table and suppress a sigh. Edward must not like blood then. Something we finally have in common.
Mr. Banner arrives, and immediately starts passing material out. Then, before I've even got the chance to prepare myself, he grabs Mike's hand for a demo, pricking his finger. My eyes narrow in on the glistening drop of red, growing bigger and bigger on his index finger. I swallow hard, force myself to breathe deeply.
Don't embarrass yourself, please.
I watch as Mr. Banner presses the blood to the reader card, smearing and mixing it in the drop of water already waiting. The blood swirls and my vision starts to tunnel. My stomach flips and my arms threaten to give out where they're supporting my head.
I suck in another breath, but that seems to be the final mistake. I can smell it now, that awful copper tang permeating the room. My arms really do give out and my head flops uselessly on the desk.
"Mr. Swan?" Mr. Banner asks in surprise. "Are you okay? You can't stand blood?"
"I already know my blood type, sir," I mumble. My head fills like it's filling with water, bogged down and blurry.
"Christ, there's always one," he mutters. "Mr. Newton, can you escort him to the nurse's office please?"
"No, sir, I'll be fine—" I try to protest, but Mr. Banner cuts me off, gesturing for Mike to take me. I flush horribly, blotchy and far too bright, but I allow Mike to loop one of my arms over his shoulder, for him to haul me up. It's awkward, considering I'm taller than him.
Together we make our way through the halls, but once we reach the administration, I beg to sit, dropping heavily onto the bench outside. Mike shifts nervously, keeping me at an arm's length.
"Are you going to puke?" he asks.
"No," I say softly, but he ignores me, panic beginning to rise on his face.
"Like we're bros and all, but if you puke on me, I swear to god—"
Then, the unthinkable happens.
"Beau?" Edward Cullen's beautiful, musical voice rings out, and I beg god, any god, to let the ground open and swallow me whole. I simply stay there, slumped on the bench, praying for the embarrassment to end. "What's wrong, is he hurt?"
"I think he fucking passed out," Mike says, fully panicking now. Was this some cosmic punishment or a sick experiment, seeing how much humiliation I could withstand? "He didn't even prick himself."
"Beau," he says, close to my head. "Can you hear me?"
"No," I groan, childish. "Go away." Edward laughs softly, getting to his feet.
"I was supposed to take him to the nurse's office, but he wouldn't go any further," Mike explains. I color even deeper at the insinuation, even if it is true.
"I'll take him," Edward offers. Fuck, please no. "You go back to class."
"I'm supposed to take him," Mike argues. I've never been more grateful for him. Maybe God had decided enough was enough.
Or maybe god had a really sick sense of humor, because Edward gathered me up into his arms then, holding me like a ragdoll.
"Put me down," I gasp, forcing my eyes open. It should be awkward, considering I'm built like a baby giraffe, but Edward moves gracefully, despite the fact I'm just as tall as he is. Behind me, I hear Mike protest, but Edward keeps moving, ignoring him entirely.
"You look awful," he tells me cheerfully. How goddamn unfair that he looked like a prize painting and I looked like a corpse. Not even a fresh one.
"Put me on the sidewalk," I command, or I try to anyways. This, too, is ignored. We make our way to the nurse's office and Edward explains to Mrs. Cope what happened. We're escorted into the nurse's office, and Edward places me gently on the bed. My feet hang off the edge, so I curl into myself, rolling onto my side.
"So, you faint at the sight of blood," Edward says. Jackass. "And not even your own." Then, when Mrs. Hammond comes in, he explains to her as well. It must make him feel better, I think bitterly, to know his stupid, fragile masculinity's more intact than mine. Jokes on you, asshole, I like who I am.
When Mrs. Hammond tries to dismiss him, he lies outright, assuring her he's supposed to stay here with me. She nods, leaving to grab me some ice.
"You were right," I mumble, recalling our earlier conversation.
"I usually am," Cocky bastard. "What part?"
"Ditching is healthy," I say, closing my eyes. Edward laughs again, taking a seat.
"You scared me for a minute," he says, but I don't bother opening my eyes. "I thought Newton was dragging your body off to bury it in the woods."
"Ha ha," I say sardonically.
"Seriously," he insists. "I've seen corpses with better color. I thought I might have to avenge your murder." Whatever remaining blood in my head flooded my cheeks, making me even more blotchy. It was almost… sweet.
"Poor Mike," I mutter.
"He absolutely hates me," Edward says brightly, like it's a good thing.
"How can you know that?" I ask, trying to be diplomatic. Secretly, I wonder if he did know.
"I could see it on his face," Edward explains. I shake my head, trying to dispel some of the roiling nausea.
"How'd you even know I was sick?" I ask, sitting up slowly.
"I saw you," he says casually. "I was in my car, listening to CD's."
"Retro," I remark. Mrs. Hammond comes back, handing me an ice pack.
"Well, you look a little better," she says, helping me place it. I sigh softly at the cold; it seems to chase the rest of the nausea away.
"I feel better," I affirm. Just then, Mrs. Cope hurries in, escorting Mike and another boy from my class in. He looks particularly green, and I grit my teeth as the smell assaults me. He hadn't gotten sick like I had.
"Beau, why don't you head out," Edward says to me, urgent. I nod once, handing the ice pack over and hurrying out. In the office, I suck in a breath of clean air, waiting for my stomach to settle.
"You listened," he says, surprised.
"I smelled the blood," I say, leaning back in a chair. I shut my eyes, dreading my next period. There was no way I'd be able to survive it.
"You have gym next period, don't you?" Edward asks. I don't bother opening my eyes, but I nod all the same. "Well, in that case, sit there and look pale."
I didn't need to act, but I listened, waiting to see what Edward would do. He strides up to Mrs. Cope, confident, and smiles charmingly at her. Poor lady.
"Mrs. Cope, I don't think Beau's up for his next period," he says in that silky voice. Mrs. Cope melts, grinning and batting her eyelashes. Now, why couldn't I do that? "I think I ought to take him home. Could you excuse him from his class? Gym?"
"Of course," she agrees easily. "Do you need to be excused too?"
"No, I should be fine," he says, smiling sweetly at her. Astonished, I follow Edward meekly out to the parking lot, but when I go for my car, he grabs me, hauling me back. I hop awkwardly, twisting to glare at him.
"What do you think you're doing?" he demands.
"What do you think you're doing?" I echo sharply, glaring at him. Edward rolls his eyes.
"You can't drive home like this," he explains slowly, like he's talking to a child. "I'll drop you off and Alice can drop off your truck."
"I'm fine," I insist. Edward shakes his head.
"Get in the car, Beau," he says, opening up the passenger door of his shiny Volvo. "What would Charlie think."
I huff, but get in anyways. Smart move, I think bitterly, using Charlie to guilt me into going with him.
"You're so fucking pushy, you know that?" I tell him savagely. Edward only dips his head in acknowledgement, twiddling with the stereo. I'm surprised when a familiar tune plays, reminding me of my mom, of the way she'd play this song and others in our cluttered living room, twirling around in her long skirts.
"Debussy," I say, smiling sadly. "Clair de Lune."
"You know it?" he says, surprised.
"Sure," I say. "My mom used to play classical music all the time. I only really know my favorites though."
"It's a favorite of mine too," he admits. "What was your mother like?"
"Oh, Renee… she's my best friend. She's beautiful and funny, outgoing and brave. Not like me at all. I have too much Charlie in me."
Edward chuckles softly, nodding at me to go one.
"She's eccentric and kind of irresponsible, and a really shitty cook," I laugh. I miss her so much. I even miss her weird pasta surprises and the way she managed to leave a trail of clutter behind her everywhere she went.
"How old are you, Beau?" he asks me, seeming frustrated. I flounder, a little taken aback by the abrupt shift.
"Uh, seventeen," I answer.
"You don't seem seventeen," he counters. At that, I have to laugh. Another Renee-ism.
"My mom used to say I was born thirty-five and I keep getting more middle aged as I get older," I explain. He laughs at that too, a short, musical sound. "You don't really act like a junior yourself."
We chat for a while, and somehow, my words pour out of me, rushing out like a broken dam. I tell him about Phil, relationships, family. During a lull, I ask about his. His parents died when he was young, but he doesn't remember them. He's the same age as Bella, but she's been there longer than he has.
"My siblings," he says as we pull up to my house. "Are waiting for me, and they're not exactly patient. Well, you are friends with Bella, you know."
I nod, tripping out of his car. Before I can go, he stops me, asking me to keep safe this weekend. Despite the clear condescension, I nod.
"What are you doing this weekend?" I ask.
"Emmett and I are starting the weekend early," he says. "Hiking up near Goats Rocks Wilderness, by Rainier."
"Have fun," I say, slightly put out that I won't see him again until after the weekend. I hurry inside, watching from the doorway as he disappears into the sheet of rain.
A/N: Let me know what you thought!