B-POV

"That's your first thought!?"

Edward flinched at the volume of his own incredulous outburst.

It wasn't my first thought, but it was certainly the right one.

"The first day of class… you knew about the extra credit because you took the instructions from Professor Barnett's head, you didn't listen to what she said." Memories flitted about in the back of my mind like little birds, reminding me of Edward's odd behavior. As the birds settled, a feeling of rightness spread over me. I grew more confident as I spoke. "The night of the Honors Mixer… I didn't understand why you left so abruptly. Your siblings must have called out to you in their minds. And with Jessica! Her bizarre fantasy of licking you—you must be able to see that."

The curl of his lips told me that he definitely saw Jessica's fantasies. Those and many, many others like them, I was sure.

Which was why he continuously sought me out. If he could read my mind, he would be just as avoidant of my growing desire for him as he was of Jessica's fantasies, if not more. "But you can't read my mind, can you? I must offer you some sort of respite."

Beside me on the bench, Edward had slumped over. His elbows rested on his knees and his fingers fisted in his hair: the defeated pose of a super-enhanced human whose secret identity had been discovered.

"Well? Am I right?"

He sighed heavily and shifted his position, so his chin rested in his hand. Still leaning over his long legs, he looked up at me. "You certainly have a knack for connecting all the dots."

I beamed. "I went through a huge Sherlock phase."

He sighed again. "I did, too."

"I'll add it to our list."

He smiled. It was fleeting, but no less beautiful.

I gasped. "That game we played in the library! You weren't guessing people from the cars they drove. You could read their minds." A giggle fluttered on my lips. "Why would you do anything so obvious?"

He sighed and slid his fingers into his hair once more.

I figured that was going to be as much of a confirmation as I was going to get. "So, how did this happen? Are there others like you? How far can you hear? Why don't you think you can read my mind?"

Edward remained perfectly still.

For a moment, I doubted myself. Here, in the middle of a stark, white room, I sounded like a crazy person. The doubt didn't have a chance to settle before I tossed it to the side. I knew I was right. From the start, I had sensed more from Edward—he was more than an ordinary boy.

I regarded his defeated posture. Any smugness that came with my victory vanished. Tucking my hands under my legs, I resisted the urge to run my hand through his hair and comfort him. Edward spent his entire life hiding a significant part of who he was from everyone else. His isolation was suddenly quite sad. And I poked a hole through his protective bubble and pulled him out of its safety by the collar. Had I been in his shoes, I would feel so vulnerable, so exposed.

And I knew firsthand how awful it felt to be vulnerable and exposed.

To feel alien from everyone around you.

Unlike me, Edward had no trouble with his appearance. However, like me, he lived with a nagging reminder that he was different than everyone around him. As long as we were unable to perfectly blend in, there was no peace.

A tiring, wretched existence.

And to think, the first thing I ever thought about this boy was that we would have nothing in common. Well, my second thought. My first thought was how devastatingly beautiful he was.

Looking at his beautiful profile—his sharp jaw, the line of his sharp nose, the messy bronze hair framing it all—I suddenly felt guilty for my probing questions. I scooted closer—close enough that our thighs almost touched—hoping he would see the gesture as an acknowledgment that I was still here beside him.

"I knew you were extraordinary, Edward."

Still silent, he tucked his lips between his teeth.

"It happened quite suddenly. One day I woke up as a telepath. I've never met someone exactly like me, but there are others who are close. I've met a psychic and an empath."

A million more questions bubbled to my lips, but I held them in, allowing Edward to finish.

"Not very far. A hundred-foot radius. But that is more than enough. I don't think I could handle any more than that. Finally, it's probably my terrible luck," another small smile, "the one person whose thoughts I would want to hear is also the one person off-limits to me."

At his teasing, I tried to bump him with my knee, but he swiftly dodged my playful attack.

"That's incredible, Edward. You're incredible."

He finally sat up to offer a wry smile. "That's very kind of you to say. It's not something I would have picked for myself, that's for sure."

"Why not?" Mind reading was one of those superpowers everyone wanted. What I wouldn't give to hear Edward's thoughts.

"Think of the most congested place you've ever been in. A concert. A stadium. A wedding. Now, picture everyone talking at the same time. Then, double that."

The mere thought made me yearn for a good book in my soft bed in my quiet room. "Yikes."

"Yikes is right," he sighed. "After years of practice, I'm able to push everything back until it's a manageable buzz, but if I do that, things often slip through the cracks. I can separate a voice or two from the buzz, but then it becomes difficult to discern which voice is verbal versus mental without staring intently at the mouth." To demonstrate, he turned his gaze to my mouth while he spoke. It only took a few seconds for it to feel uncomfortable, and I instinctively turned away. Realizing that was a problem Edward faced I forced myself to turn back towards him.

Edward nodded to himself; his point thoroughly justified. "It makes for a miserable conversationalist."

I smiled and thought of Jessica's encounters with Edward. If her mind moved as quickly as her mouth—a hundred miles an hour—I was sure Edward had a terrible time keeping track. His silence and one-worded responses to poor Jessica made sense. He didn't want to accidentally mess up her words and her thoughts.

I understood why Edward would prefer my silent mind, and why he was so responsive to the sound of my voice. He never had to worry about mixing up my words with my thoughts. It must have been such a relief.

"Smaller groups must be easier for you, though."

"It's true, they are. But with the smaller groups, I can become intrusive. Sure, I can let my guard down, but I still hear people's thoughts as loudly as their words. If you ever had to amend what you were going to say or choose to hold something back, you would still be a kind person for how you choose to act." He shook his head, "I see every thought. Hear every negative word."

"That's nice, though," I offered. I wished more than anything to know what people thought of me. I could avoid the people who secretly harbored negative thoughts and talked about my body behind my back.

"I hate it," he whispered. "I'm an infliction."

"You're not."

"I am. Even with my family who know of my gift and have put in the energy to empty their minds, I still know more about them than they would want me to. Wouldn't it be the cruelest of curses to have the deepest, darkest part of yourself exposed?"

"Oh." I couldn't think of anything better to say.

"I try my best to isolate myself, to give my family some peace of mind. It breaks my mother's heart and causes my brother and sister almost as much grief. But I don't think they understand how miserable they would be if I were around all the time. I can hear the mental gymnastics they put themselves through for my sake. It's better for everyone if I stay away."

That couldn't possibly be true. A life without Edward's charming smile and dry wit seemed so barren, now that he was in mine. When I opened my mouth to say as much, Edward's gaze shot up to the steps, then immediately lowered. I heard the soft sounds of laughter ascending the stairs moments after Edward heard them approach. Their laughter cut off abruptly, as they realized they had interrupted an intimate moment, and they turned away.

I frowned. I wished for a different kind of intimate moment between Edward and me.

When they were far enough away, Edward bowed his head. "I really only have three choices in which to exist: overwhelmed, a nuisance, or alone."

"You're not any of those things with me. You're my friend."

A genuine smile slowly spread across his face. One large enough to crinkle the sides of his eyes. Those were a rarity from Edward, and I committed it to memory. "You've decided to promote me from stranger."

"Don't worry. It's only because I pity you."

He laughed. In the empty room, it echoed like chorus bells ringing.

"I'm sorry to have unloaded all of that on you." He swept his hand through his hair. "I doubt you wanted to spend your Friday night listening to the pathetic droll of a freak."

"It's what friends are for."

I was rewarded with another smile.

Again, Edward's gaze shifted towards the stairs. I expected another group to pop in. After a few silent moments, no one came through the doorway. I looked up at Edward to ask what was up, but his golden gaze was out of focus.

He must have been listening to something.

My heart fluttered once more at the unbelievable concept. I should have let him listen to whatever it was, but curiosity got the better of me. "What is it?"

"Your friends are looking for you. Your friend Tyler is considering coming up to make sure you're okay."

His lips curled down. I recalled Tyler's first impression of Edward and realized Edward would have heard that. Again, my heart squeezed. Edward knew every, single negative thought about him. I could speculate, and those speculations were painful enough. Edward knew firsthand.

"You should go find them."

"I'm going to have to say something to Jessica…" I said. It was dizzying to think my intention was to scold Edward for being rude to my friend. "What do you want me to say? I can lie. I can tell her you have a girlfriend back home or something like that."

"No," he said, quickly. I rather enjoyed how fast he refuted that proposition. He cleared his throat. "Um, no. You can tell her the truth: that I would rather not be tricked into a date."

I blushed, feeling guilty that I had played a part in his deception. I said as much to Edward, and he forgave me right away.

"You were being nice to your friend," he said, simply.

"Would you like to come back down with me? We can turn this into the group outing you were promised."

"Do you think your friends would like that?"

"You know better than I would."

He laughed. The sound was curt and without humor. "Then, I better not. Maybe next time, when I hadn't accidentally jilted one of your friends and rivaled the other."

I nodded once. "Deal."

I expected Edward to follow me, but he remained where he was on the third floor. I supposed he needed more time to himself.

My group of friends surrounded Jessica near the bar on the second floor. Mike held a bubbly drink for her while Angela provided a steady stream of snacks. The second she spotted me, Jessica demanded to hear what Edward said. I edited his response, "He saw through our plan and wasn't very happy to have been tricked."

Angela placed a hand on Jessica's shoulder. "That's very reasonable," she spoke for the two, like she was Jessica's conscious. Jessica curled her lip but didn't speak her displeasure out loud. I grimaced, wondering if Edward was listening from upstairs. Whatever she thought couldn't be in his favor.

Now that I was back and Jessica's date was over, our group moved through the exhibit for real. Mike spent most of the time complimenting Jessica, comparing her to the words of art. I struggled to keep myself from rolling my eyes, but Jessica ate it up. At the end of the evening, they walked out of the gallery hand-in-hand. It was good to know that Edward's rejection hadn't spoiled her evening.

It was well after midnight when I finally stumbled through my front door. I immediately tripped over a box and landed on a plastic bag. The plastic bag appeared to be filled with beads and feathers, but I didn't have the energy to piece together Charlie's new hobby.

I was starving.

I hadn't eaten dinner at home to save room for hor's d-oeuvres at the gallery opening, then was unable to eat at the event. I rummaged through the fridge and pantry and found nothing remotely tantalizing. Our grocery trip was on Sundays, so the house was getting to the bare bones. I breathed a sweet sigh of relief when I opened the freezer and found a frozen pizza. I wouldn't have to eat a dry bowl of cereal or leftover white rice, after all. Though I had them memorized after nineteen years of frozen pizzas, I read the instructions on the back of the box and followed them.

When the pizza was in the oven, I settled into one of the two metal folding chairs at the kitchen table—suspiciously similar to the ones they set up for assemblies at the elementary school. Our actual dining chairs were still stuffed in a corner, waiting to have their seats reattached with a fabric Charlie hadn't selected yet.

I only got through four pages of my book when a creak and a shuffle sounded right outside of the kitchen.

The creak and shuffle that belonged to a man who could smell a pizza from over a mile away.

"Hi, Dad," I greeted, without looking up.

"Supreme?" he asked, in lieu of a proper greeting.

"Meat lovers."

"Even better."

He sat at the table with me. I was content to sit and read while waiting for the pizza to cook, but Charlie's fingers drummed against his knees—already restless. I set my book face-down on the table.

"How's that new teacher?" I asked, simply to give him an interesting subject to talk about.

"Oh, she's wonderful," Charlie's hand fluttered to his heart, "I have no idea how I harbored a single negative thought towards her. The woman is an angel."

I raised both eyebrows. My father was known to harbor petty grudges over nothing for years. This woman must have been spectacular to win over Charlie so abruptly and effectively. "Wow."

"I don't know how she does it. She must never sleep. She has extra lesson plans and worksheets for every subject imaginable and is always happy to share. She provides all sorts of snacks in the teacher's lounge. And her bulletin boards..." Charlie brought his fingers to his lips for a chef's kiss, "…magnifique,"

I laughed. Charlie loved a good bulletin board. He regularly attempted to create the eighth wonder of the world with crate paper and glitter. However, his visions never came to pass. Even after he roped me in with promises of elementary school greatness, we would only get halfway through cutting out small shapes or drawing increate figures before Charlie gave up.

"Speaking of gorgeous, her husband."

"Dad!" I giggled, scandalized.

Charlie shook his head, scandalized in an entirely different way, "He picked her up from the school this week because they were going out to some function. Stunning. The most beautiful man I have ever seen in my life."

I scoffed. Charlie only thought that because he never saw Edward.

"And a doctor! Can you believe that Bella?" Charlie inspected his arm, "I may have a broken bone in a week or two that will need to get attended to by one Carlisle Cullen."

I laughed again and Charlie joined in.

"How was your night? Did you have a good time dressing up and eating free food?"

I genuinely did not know the answer to his question. Most of my evening was spent with a twisted stomach, in anticipation of Jessica's date with Edward, then the date itself. But my brief alone time with him was more magnificent than usual. In one, short conversation, my small world exploded into something more. A world with powers beyond my comprehension. "It was… indescribable."

Charlie hummed thoughtfully. "I might have to check out that exhibit, then. Though, I take it the food wasn't good," he jutted his chin towards the oven.

I shrugged, unwilling to say anything more on the matter.

Charlie asked a few more probing questions about the night and my new friends. He drilled me about Tyler in particular, which I found odd. The shrill beep of the oven timer saved me from describing what he looked like in detail.

Charlie got up and took the pizza out. I sat back and let the master work. He was the best at convincing the old pizza cutter to function properly. He was redistributing pepperonis when his phone buzzed on the table beside me.

"Hey Dad, you got a notification from…" I leaned down to get a better look at the screen, but before I could see, Charlie snatched his phone and hid it behind his back.

We stared at each other, bewildered. We often read our messages and notifications out to each other. There was never anything to hide in this household.

I didn't even need to say anything before Charlie sighed, immediately giving in. "You'll find out eventually, so I might as well tell you now."

His expression looked foreign to me, like he was another man. It was at that moment I realized I had never seen Charlie embarrassed before.

"I joined…" he took a deep breath. I had seen him join many embarrassing clubs: juggling, miming, bingo. But none of them made him furiously blush. In fact, I thought that he was incapable of blushing. I assumed I had received the trait from my mother. "… a dating site."

"Dad! Seriously?" Charlie had a handful of casual relationships since having me, but most of the time, it's just been the two of us.

He checked the notification and slid his phone back into his pocket. "You started college, and I want you to feel free to find your own life. I want you to go out on nights and weekends without worrying about Dear Old Dad."

The gesture was sweet, but I would always worry about Dear Old Dad, no matter how many dates he went on.

"So, who was the notification from?" I said, wiggling my eyebrows.

Two blushes in one night must have been a record for Charlie. Someone would have to be notified, and quickly. "Someone matched with me. That's it." He sounded casual, but the look he gave his phone told a different story.

"Let me see!"

Charlie handed me a plate of pizza and his phone. I eagerly scrolled through his matches—all made that evening. He was a catch. I was glad the other men in the area saw that as well.

My world truly shifted into something new that night. Mind readers were real and my father sent a corny pick-up line asking an attractive Native American man if his feet were tired from running through his mind all day.

oOo

I sulked at the top of the Space Needle for far longer than I should have. I had no idea why my dead heart ached, as if in mourning. I hadn't necessarily lost anything that evening. Bella was my friend, just as she had been before. The word friend grated at my skin.

That was the issue.

It didn't feel like enough. Then again, with Bella, nothing ever felt like enough.

I buried my hands in my hair, now soaking wet from the constant drizzle of rain. The twinkling city lights below made up for the missing stars in the sky overhead. Both beautiful in their own right. Neither as beautiful as the human girl whose face appeared each time I closed my eyes.

Eventually, the nagging thought of my mother and sister grew loud enough to coax me off the Needle. The two of them were together, most likely weaving together tales of my night with Bella. Impossible scenarios of true love and endless devotion. The longer I stayed out, the more likely they would expect me to walk through the front door with a writhing newborn vampire in my arms. I needed to return home and shoot down their expectations. Otherwise, I would have gladly spent the whole weekend up in the clouds, far away from people's thoughts and ignoring my own.

I trudged up the front steps to our porch just after two in the morning. Out of habit, I lingered outside, pinpointing the location of everyone in the house, based on their thoughts. Just as I expected, Alice and Esme were in the living room, curled up together on the couch under a blanket, chatting happily. Emmett and Rosalie were there as well, in the nook along the back wall, enjoying an intricate game of chess. Carlisle was up in his study, hiding his silly science fiction book behind the medical journal Jasper gifted him earlier that week. Similarly, Jasper was in his room beside a fire, hiding an intricate fantasy book within his history textbook from Carlsie.

They would have similar tastes in books if they both didn't pretend to prefer non-fiction. I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself. They didn't deserve my judgment—they were allowed to be perceived by others in whatever way they wanted. It was another harmless secret I had no right to know.

I toyed with the idea of returning to the Needle for a moment before I reluctantly reached the doorknob. Esme stood the second I inched through the doorway. "How did it go?"

"Good," I lied.

Alice closed her eyes. I had spoken one word and she was already annoyed. "Edward, you are either going to tell me about your night or I am going to spend the rest of the weekend dragging information out of you with probing questions that will increase in both frequency and pitch." She reopened her eyes to glare at me. "Which would you prefer?

With no other option than death by irritation, I told my family the events of the night.

Halfway through, Emmett chuckled low and slow. "A powerful immortal, tricked into a date by a human teenage girl."

Had I been human, my cheeks would have flushed. The thought immediately made me smile, reminding me of Bella's lovely coloring and how it showered her embarrassment.

"This isn't a bad thing," Alice reasoned to both herself and Esme. "Bella hadn't rejected him outright."

However, Esme was too appalled to be soothed by Alice. As I told my story, Esme crept closer to where I stood. She was close enough that her outburst caused me to flinch back. "H-h-how? How can this be? How could she hand you off to another girl? Does she even know what a wonderful pianist you are?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, mom."

"Well, why not?"

"Because there aren't any grand pianos in the English building at school."

"There's your issue right here," Esme waggled her finger in my face, "You're always selling yourself short." You are a catch! Any human girl should be thrilled to have your attention!"

While Esme continued to spout unhelpful advice, Rosalie's thoughts cut through. "Yes. What a catch you are indeed. The vampire freak among humans. The vegetarian freak among vampires. The gifted freak among the vegetarian vampires. An intrusive bastard to all. How could any girl resist such a man?"

The words were a wooden stake to the heart.

Upstairs, Jasper and Carlisle had switched back to their non-fiction material, knowing I was in the house. My mere presence ruined their otherwise pleasant evening.

Alone, a nuisance, or overwhelmed.

Those were my only choices in this eternal non-life of mine.

However, there was one constant. Anywhere I went, I would never truly fit in. Rosalie was right—I was a freak. Bella deserved so much more than that. Already, her human friends did not like me. At a single glance they correctly identified me as an outsider. Bella knew I was odd—extraordinary—as she kindly put it. Currently, she only knew of my mind reading. How much more could I expect her to forgive?

"Esme," I took my mother's hands from where they were flying around and held them in mine. "It does not matter to me that this evening didn't go as expected. I am not going to romantically pursue this girl."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to."

Esme squeezed my hands, fiercely. "Baby, I already know what you're doing. You will not hide from this girl the way you hide from everyone else." I opened my mouth to protest but closed it upon receiving a single raised eyebrow from Esme. "Already, you care enough about her that you think she would be happier without you."

Pain lanced through Esme's heart at my knee-jerk reaction to flee, but she told herself now wasn't the time to discuss that.

"I am begging you to give her the chance to pick you."

I couldn't see why she ever would. "Isn't it best if I appreciate the friendship Bella does want?"

Esme ignored my question and asked one of her own. "Do you love her?"

"No." My voice wavered. I cleared my throat once before I asked, "It's too early to know, isn't it?"

Esme smiled adoringly at my uncertainty. As always, she saw right through me. I might as well have been made of glass. She released one of my hands and put her hand over my heart. Her thumb traced the top of the pocket. "When you do fall in love with her, it's going to go off like a bomb. Already, I can hear it ticking. You're allowed to make your feelings known to her. Let her choose if she wants to reciprocate those feelings."

"I'm a vampire."

"I fell in love with a vampire," Esme said. She jutted her chin towards Emmett, still engaged in his chess match. "Your brother fell in love with a vampire. It's not that hard."

"She would have to give up so much… Lie to everyone she knows for the rest of her life."

"Let her decide whether that's something she wants."

"If she fell for me, it would end with her heartbroken or hurt or..."

Esme spoke each word in a slow, deliberate spiccato. "Let. Her. Choose."

"Don't bench yourself before tryouts, man," Emmett thought.

"If you try to force your beliefs onto a woman instead of letting her choose for herself, I'll maim you," Alice added in her own mind, cheerfully.

Rosalie's thoughts were noticeably invested in her chess match—a game she could win in her sleep.

"I'll try," I promised though I heavily doubted Bella would want any romantic advances from me.

"Thank you." Esme gave my heart one, final pat before she stepped away. Her caramel curls whacked me as she spun on her heels. "Did you still want to show me that video?" she asked Alice, who held up the blanket for Esme to rejoin her on the couch.

I lingered where I was, still near the doorway. My family returned to the night's activities as if they didn't just casually knock the trajectory of my life miles off course. With a sigh, I lumbered up the three staircases to my room at a slothful human pace. I threw myself down at my piano. The old bench creaked under my weight.

Even with my family's blessing, it felt wrong to pursue Bella. I could be content with our simple friendship. In fact, I was certain it was better for the both of us if I left our relationship as it was. It wasn't like I loved her.

At least, that's what I thought.

Because when I went to play a simple set of warm-up scales, my fingers played a different song. A new song. Unbidden.

A graceful tune to accompany thick, mahogany hair spilling through my fingers.


If you couldn't tell already, Charlie is going to be way OOC in this because he's essentially a gender-bent Renee. I really loved the concept of Renee. Bella's best friend, a quirky mother, a source of silliness to juxtapose Bella's seriousness. It felt very Gilmore Girls. I was disappointed that canon was all post-Renee. And, of course, Renee got worse and worse as we discovered more about her, so that was disappointing as well. And canon Charlie wasn't any better. Though he had his moments, he relied on his daughter to cook and clean for him and encouraged the boy who sexually assaulted her. I decided Bella deserved a good parent in this fic.