E-POV

While other students prepared for their Friday nights by grooming for several hours or taking illegal shots that damaged their minds, I sunk my sharp teeth into the flesh of a beast in the middle of the woods. Alice and I took a route through the mountains after classes, catching and feasting on whatever prey we stumbled upon on our way home. My siblings habitually partook in the ritual before an evening out with their human friends. It was my first time participating. Unfortunately, my family all had plans with their significant other that night, so it wasn't the communal affair it usually was.

Alice was the only one who pitied me enough to accompany me, despite her plans. Though I knew her reasoning was entirely selfish—she wanted to pull information about Bella from me—I was still happy to be out with my best friend. During our romp through the woods, I caught Alice up on the events that led up to my night out, concluding with how tiresome I found the entire ordeal.

"When you pretend to be an eighteen-year-old, you have to deal with eighteen-year-old drama," she said, excusing their behavior with a flick of her delicate wrist. "I mean, Georgia decided she didn't like me because we bought our shoes from the same boutique in Portland. So, now she tries to talk about me behind my back to the rest of the group to turn them against me. I am over one hundred and twenty years old. This time last year, I was planning a charity banquet for the Chinese elite. Do you think I want to deal with that?"

I frowned. I had no desire to get wrapped up in anything like that. I told Alice as much. "Perhaps it would be for the best if I didn't go at all. Distance myself from the entire thing as much as possible."

"No way! You made a commitment to Bella, and you are going to see it through. You don't want to give Bella the wrong impression now, do you?" Alice's pinched lips told me exactly how she wanted me to respond.

"I want to be direct with each other. That's the impression I want to give."

"And that's why you asked her out directly, right?"

I clenched my jaw, unable to think up a decent retort. She was right. I, too, danced around the proposition of a date instead of simply asking.

"Bella skirting around the proposition isn't entirely juvenile, either," she continued. "You have to remember how intimidating you are. As open and friendly as you think you're being, Bella still might want a safety net."

"I know," I sighed. We were at the house at that point. Alice followed up to my room for the second round of preparation for the evening: selecting an ensemble. "I inspire a fear in men unmatched by any other beast."

Another taut expression told me I had given the wrong answer. I could make out the first points of the lecture Alice wanted to give, but she thought better of it. Instead, she marched straight into my closet without bothering to ask for permission. "What do you want to wear?"

"Bella likes vintage," I said, "I think it would be a nice idea to bring out some older attire."

"Ohhh!" she bounced. "I love it."

Alice reached far into the back of my closet and handed me suspenders and a bowtie I wore back in the Twenties.

"Too far back?"

"No, this is good."

"You know…" she mused, flipping through my clothing. "I did think you were coolest back in the Nineties…"

Though Alice had told this same joke multiple times already, I grinned and set her up, "Because of the few concerts I opened for Jeff Tweedy in Chicago?"

"No… I think that because you wore these," she pulled out the horrendous pair of JNCO jeans, that were popular back in the day. I never even wore the pants, but the mere thought that I might have tickled Alice to no end. "These are vintage. Do you think Bella would want to see you in these?"

"I think I'll have to save them for the third date," I teased, "They're only for special occasions."

As the words were spoken, the two of us were cursed with a vision of me sporting the pants. I cringed back; Alice howled with laughter.

Once she was able to compose herself, Alice selected a few modern basics for me to wear, so I didn't look like I had stepped out of a time machine.

"Wow, Edward," Alice marveled, when I was dressed and ready.

I stared down at my shoes.

"You look amazing. If Bella isn't already smitten with you, she will be after seeing you in that."

I didn't lift my gaze as I smoothed my sleeves and adjusted my collar, "I highly doubt clothing is going to be the way to her heart."

Alice's thoughts tittered at my disgruntled tone. Her mind danced around the subject but was a decent enough friend to not let her wildest hopes loose directly in front of me.

"Do you like her?"

"I don't know," I said honestly. "I want to."

"Why?"

There were many reasons why I would want to, aside from the obvious desire to love and be loved. For decades, I was able to peek into the minds of three perfectly matched lovers, and how each of their worlds tilted ever-so-slightly for their partners. At the store, anything adorned with lilies—Esme's favorite flower—stuck out to Carlisle like beacons. Rosalie constantly had an ear out for jokes Emmett would find funny and picked up on more side conversations than anyone else.

My own version of the world had dulled into gray a long time ago. There were no flowers for me to find, nor smiles for me to earn. I lived only for myself, who sought sorrows to weave into bars of music.

"I think it would be nice. To have someone alter the way I view the world."

I hadn't been able to look at my best friend. It was awkward enough to hear her thoughts—to see the unbridled hope on her pretty, porcelain face would be unbearable. My own heart was already on the line. I didn't need to think about how my family would be affected, as well.

Sensing my nerves, Alice excused herself, "Good luck, Edward."

"Good luck with Georgia," I offered.

"Oh, don't worry about that. I already bought the boutique and I plan to give more expensive shoes to all my other friends."

With no parting vision of the future for comfort or guidance, I could only assume my fate with Bella rested entirely in my hands.

The gallery was in an old rowhouse that had been converted to suit its new purpose. Though the exterior maintained its old charm with a brick façade and climbing ivy, the interior had been gutted and flattened into smooth surfaces. It made sense to supply an artist with a blank, white canvas. However, I had never been logical, and the missing crown molding and coffered ceiling called out in forgotten misery.

I spotted Bella in the crowd right away. That evening, she was a smattering of different decades. Under her fifties-style jumpsuit popped out a Peter Pan collar popular in the twenties, paired with a suede jacket from the seventies. Looking at her was like looking through a box of forgotten memories—unexpected surprises blanketed with a sense of nostalgic comfort. I liked looking at her.

"Bella," I called to her as I wove around small clusters of people to get to her. She turned towards me and pushed her thick, dark hair behind her shoulders, displaying her soft, expressive face.

I couldn't help but smile at how nervous she appeared. Hesitation hinted at the corners of her smile. A small V formed between her eyebrows. Her heartbeat quickened. I wanted to assure her that I wanted to be on this date with her and there was no need for worry or schemes.

I complimented her, instead. "You look lovely, tonight," I said honestly, fully appreciating the shape of her in the jumpsuit she wore. "Like an old-school Starlet."

Bella swallowed loudly. Before she could greet me back—or even open her mouth—her friend Jessica popped into the conversation. "You know, Bella, they say Marylin Monroe was a size sixteen."

Bella snorted. "The sizing back then was completely different from ours. She was, like, a size two, Jess."

"I read somewhere that she was a size four," a Latina girl with glasses, thick bangs, and a ponytail added.

"Who is this?" a blonde boy asked.

Jessica moved her hands to her hips, jutting them out to the side, "Don't tell me you don't know who Marylin Monroe is."

"Sweet Dreams, The Beautiful People, Personal Jesus." A boy with cropped curly hair and brown skin elbowed his blonde friend, "Come on, man."

"You're thinking of Marylin Manson," an Asian boy with glasses corrected. He held hands with the Latina girl beside him, who was stifling a laugh. "Marilyn Monroe was an actress."

"And she was fat?" the blonde boy asked.

"No," the Latina girl answered, managing to keep the derisive tone in her thoughts out of her voice, "She wasn't plus size. That's what we're talking about."

This was the group I was meant to spend my evening with. I attempted a smile, unsure of what to make of it. I hadn't spent too much time with humans of this decade, I had no clue if this amount of ignorance was normal or not.

Bella smiled up at me, her pretty, apple cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Everyone," Bella addressed the group, "This is Edward. Edward, this is Angela, Mike, Tyler, Ben, and of course, you already know Jessica."

Jessica grinned from ear to ear. "Of course," she beamed.

My smile faltered.

The others mumbled their greetings, and I responded with a similar lack of enthusiasm and forced politeness. Two held out their hands, but I kept my cold fingers safely in my pockets, so as not to frighten them. At surface level, their thoughts were polite but digging in only a little, I could already detect animosity between us. I didn't understand where it could have come from, for we literally just met. The only ones there genuinely pleased to meet me were Angela and Ben.

After a quick debate on how long they needed to look at the art before going for the food, the group meandered over to the first painting. It was an enormous seven-foot canvas. An abstract of weaving colors and textures blended together like a song.

I scanned Jessica's surface thoughts, hoping she and the rest would take her cue to leave Bella and me alone any moment now. They had tricked me into thinking this was a group outing. Job done. Now, I wanted to be alone with Bella. Especially when she looked as pretty as she did.

However, in Jessica's mind, I saw that she waited on a cue from Bella. Moments later, Bella cleared her throat. "I'm going to find something to drink."

"I'll go with you," I offered, assuming we were the ones who were supposed to stray from the group.

"No, it's okay. I'll be right back."

I watched her pick through the crowd, wondering how this could be a part of her plan.

Jessica side-stepped to take Bella's place beside me.

"This looks like something my niece drew," she scoffed. She hoped to make me laugh, but unfortunately, her joke was aimed at the wrong audience.

"Abstracts are my favorite," I replied, honestly. Looking at modern art was one of the only times my telepathy truly felt like a gift. Each person saw something different when looking at a piece like this one. One painting turned into hundreds through the minds of others. When I looked at the piece and saw music, Jessica could only see blobs of colors. Behind us, a boy picked out a dancer's performance. On his other side, his date saw his emotions swirled into colors, and felt that he identified with the piece.

"Oh, I love it, too." It was a complete lie, and I wasn't sure why she said it. I knew from the beginning she only came here for the free food. What did it mean to me if she didn't like abstract art?

"Let's move on… there's more in this back room."

I waited for other voices to chime in, but they never did. I turned around and saw that Jessica and I were now alone. My stomach dropped.

"Shouldn't we wait for Bella?"

Jessica pulled out her cell phone and pretended to scroll through a few texts. "She said to move on without her."

"What?"

"Yeah," Jessica shrugged. Through her mind, I could see that Jessica had no message on her phone from Bell, except one from earlier that night when she described what she was going to wear. "She saw someone and said she's catch up later."

"But, she's still here?"

"Somewhere."

"O-o-okay…"

All according to plan, Jessica thought to herself smugly. I didn't think she'd actually give him up. She slyly looked me up and down, her grin akin to one of a fox. I know I wouldn't.

I followed Jessica, panicking. I had gravely misunderstood the situation. I wasn't here on a date with Bella. The plan was to set me up with her friend.

I felt so stupid. I knew better than to play along with a childish game. If I had just manned up and asked Bella to go on this date with me, none of this would have happened. Of course, I also would have been rejected. If Bella willingly went through this ridiculous charade for her friend, she would have said no to a date with me.

The realization left me devastated. Unable to bear my own thoughts of anguish and inadequacy, I released any control I had over my gift. Hundreds of voices hit me like a tidal wave. Conversations and inner monologues stuffed into every crevice of my mind. My head swirled with images of the paintings from different angles and perspectives, blocking my own vision with a mind-numbing kaleidoscope.

B-POV

Tucked away at a table behind a conveniently located fern, I stood between a rueful Mike and a hopeful Angela. Somewhere downstairs, Jessica had Edward's attention all to herself. I tried my best not to dwell on that and enjoy the night with my friends and the free food. But I had no interest in the art, nor the impressive grazing table behind me, decorated artfully with cheeses, treats, and meats arranged in little roses.

Across the room, Edward and Jessica ascended the stairs. My friends and I chose our spot strategically, so Edward would not see us from the gallery. I could still see him, and how incredibly handsome he looked that evening.

"Does it look like Jessica is enjoying herself?' Angela asked, kindly concerned for her friend's well-being above everything else.

Like, the well-being of her friend beside her.

"I can't tell," Mike practically groaned. I sympathized with Mike. The last person I would want my crush on a date with was Edward. No one stood a chance with him around. He had no equal. "Turn around, god dammit."

I prayed for the opposite. I didn't want to see if they were having a good time. My heart was torn between my own impossible fantasies and my friends hitting it off. It pained me to admit the two made a striking pair. Jessica's black skin was a stark contrast to Edward's pale complexion. Both slender and well-dressed. Jessica walked through the crowds with an elegant confidence that encouraged Edward to dutifully follow.

"Are you alright?" Angela whispered close to my ear.

"Of course," I swallowed. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Her eyebrows drew together, but she forced a strained smile. Angela was a wonderful friend for many reasons, my favorite being that she never pried. "No reason."

"Goddamn it," Mike muttered to himself. I followed his line of sight to see that Edward had removed his tweed blazer and pushed up the sleeves to his button-down, revealing his perfectly toned forearms. The fabric of the shirt stretched against his biceps and across his chest, accentuating the hard muscles underneath.

I swore the entire room stifled a gasp.

On the other side of Angela, Ben chuckled darkly. "That sucks, man."

"You've got nothing to worry about," Tyler consoled his friend, placing a hand on his shoulder. He jutted his chin towards Edward, "The guy's a creep."

"Tyler!" Angela scolded.

"Y'all didn't get that same chill in the back of your spine when he walked up?" Tyler took a sip of his soda water. "He's got bad vibes."

Mike perked up, "Yeah, yeah. I did feel it. Like the air got colder. I thought I stood under a vent."

Angela crossed her arms and peered at both boys above the rim of her glasses, like a stern mother, "And this bad vibe has nothing to do with the fact that Jessica is on a date with him?"

"Nope," Mike said confidently.

"Give it time," Tyler nodded. "Jessica's quick. She'll figure out what a creep he is soon enough."

"He's my friend too, you know," I reminded them, not enjoying the negative talk about Edward.

Tyler took over Mike's place beside me, "Then it's a damn good thing you got better friends." He placed a full plate of appetizers between us, a silent offering to share.

I picked up one of the puff pastries. It looked delicious, but my stomach was full of butterflies, and I didn't have room to eat it. I nervously peeled off the layers. My friends talked around me while I stared at my plate, trying my best not to watch Jessica's date with Edward. I had picked apart three mini pastries when Mike reached for my wrist and squeezed. "She's coming over. Tell me if she hates him."

Before I could contest—or even realize what was happening—Mike was off. The others followed, leaving me to deal with whatever it was alone. I looked up and spotted Jessica, stomping toward the cocktail area; her pretty face twisted into a scowl. She stopped at the grazing table first and piled a plate high with cheese, bread, and chocolate. She slammed her plate on the table beside me—if a paper plate could be slammed—and stuffed a mini croissant in her mouth.

"I take it all back," Jessica seethed.

"What?"

She made a sandwich with two crackers, a pepperoni, and a chunk of cheddar. "Edward. He's a loner, loser, asshole freak."

"What?" I repeated in disbelief, scanning the room for Edward. I found him, standing in the middle of the crowd, unmoving. His bronze head lowered towards the ground, rather than up at the painting he stood before.

"Look, he doesn't even fucking realize I even left."

I pursed my lips at Edward's odd behavior. "Some people get introspective in front of art. Maybe Edward is one of those people."

As I spoke his name, Edward perked up. He looked to either side like he had somehow heard me from all the way across a crowded, loud room. When he didn't find what he sought, he crumpled in on himself once again.

I quirked my head, puzzled by the odd coincidence. Because it must have been that—a coincidence. All other explanations were too bizarre to even consider.

Jessica snorted, seemingly unaware of the strange occurrence. "That doesn't give him an excuse to be an ass. Plus, he dresses like an absolute dweeb."

I smiled to myself. With his denim button-down and black jeans, he wore a bow tie and suspenders, both nods to the dapper style of the 1920s. "I think he looks cute," I mumbled.

Jessica didn't seem to hear me, and for that I was grateful. She was too busy creating another concoction with the food on her plate. "I don't know how much more I'm going to be able to put up with for a pretty face. I mean, I'm a pretty face, too, and he doesn't have to put up with anything to be with me. It wouldn't be an equal relationship."

As much as I wanted to jump aboard this train so Jessica would no longer want to pursue Edward, I couldn't. It wouldn't be fair to either of them. Jessica deserved a real chance with someone as sweet and charming as Edward, and Edward deserved to be seen as who he truly was.

"He is so much more than a pretty face, Jess. You might have to wait until he feels comfortable around you, but I guarantee he is worth it."

"Really?"

"Absolutely. The second you crack through that shell, you are going to find a boy who's endearing and can make you laugh harder than you would expect just by being his own self and can find just the right words to warm you on the rainiest days."

The icy air around Jessica melted. She sighed adoringly, no doubt picturing what that would be like to experience the fantasy that was Edward. I had been lucky enough to capture his full attention several times now, and yet I could not truly express how it felt to be regarded by his golden eyes, to hear my name spoken with his perfect lips.

"I guess I can give him another chance—" Jessica started, but gasped in horror midsentence. We watched Edward walk away from the canvas and continue through the exhibit up on the third floor.

"I can't believe he would just ditch me like that! He doesn't even know where I am!" she huffed and moved her hands to her hips, "I could be in the bathroom."

I had to admit, it was rude behavior. Behavior I couldn't dream of coming from Edward.

"'ll go talk to him," I offered. "There's definitely something up with him."

"Ugh, thank you!" Jessica pulled me in for a brief hug, "If you make him tolerable to be around, I'll owe you big!"

Jessica owed me more than she knew.

Slowly and clumsily, I plucked my way through the congested crowd to the stairs up to Edward. The exhibit ended on the third floor with an almost-empty room. One side held a full floor-to-ceiling window staring right at the brick of the building next to us. On the opposite side of the room, hung a canvas the same size as the window, depicting the brick in a reimaged state. The final exhibit was far enough away from the food and drinks that people didn't linger. On my way up the steps, I watched two couples pop in only to descend again immediately.

Edward was the only one upstairs. Looking like a work of art himself, he sat on a tufted bench in the center of the room, staring at the painting with a glazed-over expression.

"Hey, Edward," I whispered.

Whatever trance the artwork held him in broke at the sound of my voice. I watched as the solid gold of his eyes melted and swirled, beckoning me closer.

"Bella."

There was no way he had a cruel bone in his body. Not while the mere sound of his voice could fill me with the warmth and wonder as a ray of sun piercing through a canopy of leaves.

Edward pulled his blazer into his lap to make room for me on the bench beside him. We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, both staring up at the piece.

"What do you see when you look at that?" he whispered.

"So, you are capable of discussing art?"

He blinked, perplexed. "What?"

"You could have discussed art with Jessica."

He opened and closed his mouth, unsure of what to say. "I suppose I could have."

"Then why didn't you?"

"I didn't want to." He spoke like he had just informed me that the sky was blue.

"Jessica likes you," I said, not caring whether Jessica would panic over my brash statement, "a lot."

Edward lowered his gaze to his knees, "I know that. Unfortunately, I do not wish to engage with her in that way. I don't believe I'll never want to."

A weight lifted off my chest. For the first time that even, I could catch my breath. Only to lose it immediately when a glimpse of Edward rendered me breathless once more.

"You knew?"

"Your friend does not disguise her feelings well." Edward shook his head and sighed in mild disgust. "I swear she looks at me like she wants to lick me all over like a cat."

His confession stood out to me. Jessica had said the exact same, bizarre sentence earlier. I wondered if it was new, popular slang, but Edward didn't seem like the kind of person to use trendy vernacular. I shook my head and returned to the matter at hand.

"That doesn't give you an excuse to treat her the way that you did."

"What way?" he asked. His tone was one of pure innocence—he had no clue what he had done wrong.

"You ignored her. For heaven's sake, Edward, you ditched her and came up here to hide from her."

"I figured if she wanted to stick around, she would have followed."

That simple logic very much tracked with what I knew of Edward. I believed him.

"You should have at least tried to be nice to her."

"That's true," Edward agreed, to my surprise, "I'm afraid I was a bit upset. I wasn't quite myself."

"What's wrong?"

He smiled briefly as my tone made the one-eighty switch from bitter to sympathetic. "Well, I can't say this evening went as I expected."

"What do you mean?"

"I expected to spend it with you."

My heart stopped, and my brain stopped with it. My body did not know how to handle a confession of that caliber from someone like Edward. As a defense mechanism, my heart built up a wall so the words could not sink in. They could never mean what I wanted them to. I pushed the subject back towards safer waters—back towards Jessica.

"It wouldn't have made a difference. You would have seen the same art whether you were with me or with Jessica."

"Bella…" he spoke my name slowly as if he were savoring the word on his tongue. "Can't you think of any reason why I would have preferred to spend my evening alone with you?"

For the first time that night, I allowed myself to look into that golden gaze that played my heartstrings like they were strings of a guitar. Knowing what they did to me, I had skillfully avoided his eyes that entire evening. I was right in doing so. That night, they were the lightest I had ever seen them, gleaming like stars.

As always, I was immediately captivated. In his eyes, I could pick out a wistful swirl of darker gold and a gleam of desire. From the way he looked at me, I could tell he wanted to be alone with me because he sought more than our careful companionship.

But he could never want the same things I wanted. His perfect lips pressed to mine. His strong arms wrapped around me. His capable hands on my skin. For Edward to desire me like I desired him would be as impossible as fetching a star.

My stomach was round. My hips took up more room on the bench than his did.

There was another reason. One that had nothing to do with his heart.

I thought of what I knew of Edward.

From the very beginning, he enraptured me. Dazzled me. Filled my heart with wonder. I knew that he was more than a pretty face, charming smile, and dry wit. Something else that made him utterly incomparable to everyone else. His graceful way of moving. He held his head high, confident about the happenings around him, as if the world let him in on all its secrets.

But he seemed to only be those things around me.

Jessica first described him as an entirely different person. I didn't truly believe her until I watched Edward close up like a clam before me. His casual confidence disappeared in a public setting. He would hunch down, and his shoulders would sag, as if the crowd itself weighed down on him.

"Can you read minds?"

I'll tell you all right now, Bella is not going to be this obtuse for much longer. If she's annoying me, I'm sure she's annoying some of you.