To all who read this story, thank you. It means a lot!
Thank you to Fran for beta'ing and Mr G and Me and Monica03 for pre-reading.
Any mistakes you see are my own!
SM owns everything Twilight.
Moments after Edward's abrupt departure, Mrs. Cullen bustles into the room, her eyes scanning me from head to toe. She breathes a sigh of relief, but the look doesn't last long; a pained expression crossed her features as she swallows audibly, releasing a long exhale.
"Is everything okay?"
"Fine," I quickly reply.
Her eyes dart to the large window showcasing the expansive backyard. I turn to look but see nothing out of the ordinary.
"Edward left."
Even though her words are a statement and not a question, I answer anyway.
"Yep. Tore outta here like his as ..." I trail off and correct my language when I remember my manners. "Like he was on fire."
An apologetic look comes over her features. Her fingers twist together in agitation in front of her before they fall down at her sides. "I'm terribly sorry for his behavior, Bella. He's been going through a difficult time."
"No need to apologize," I say, nonchalantly. "I need to go home, so it all works out okay."
Her arms raise, almost like she's going to reach out and hug me, but she stops herself and smiles, though it's not out of happiness; it seems to be out of sadness or pity … something I can't stand people feeling for me.
Delicately, she clears her throat, her eyes drifting to the now-empty dining room table. "Did you get your project done?"
"Almost," I reply, trying not to wince as my lower abdomen begins to cramp. "We got a good chunk of it done."
"Good. Do you need to make a call?" She questions, nodding toward the phone in my hand.
"Yeah. I'm going to call my cousin to come get me."
"Of course," she replies. A low rumble of grinding metal from the side of the kitchen catches our attention, and Mrs. Cullen's eyes light up. Slowly, she walks toward the door just off the kitchen, her hand turning the knob before she finishes speaking. "That's my husband. I'll leave you to your call."
My eyebrows rise at her hasty departure, and I chuckle under my breath.
Scrolling to Rose's number, I wait for a few seconds for her to answer.
"Hello?"
"Hey, can you come pick me up?"
"Is everything okay? Did that jackass hurt you?"
I smile at her irate tone. "Down, tiger. It's nothing like that. We're through for the day."
"How much did you get done?"
"I don't know. It was quite a bit though. I'd say probably one more day or two, and then it'll be finished."
"And you're leaving without getting all of it complete?" She replies with a chuckle. "That eager to go back there?"
"You're so hysterical. Let me know when you go in for comedy night at the bar," I tell her, making my voice as monotone as possible. "No. I'm not feeling well. Cramps."
"Ah," she says in understanding. "Give me directions, and I'll be there soon."
"Uh ... sure." I pause, not knowing how the hell to get here, which is really great on my part.
I need to be more observant, especially where psycho classmates are concerned.
"I … uh, don't know the way exactly."
"Isabella, I can't believe you! Why weren't you paying attention when you were being driven there?" Rose scolds.
"Hey, I know, okay? But their place is tricky. It's practically in the middle of nowhere."
"That's no excuse—"
In the middle of her rant, I feel a soft tap on my shoulder. Mrs. Cullen smiles at me kindly, standing next to a rather good looking guy, now understanding her rush to greet him.
Whoa.
His blond hair is combed back neatly, his blue sweater tucked into his slightly wrinkled dress pants. His eyes—the same color as most of his family—are bright gold, filled with friendliness and a touch of curiosity. His head is tilted to the side, almost as if he'd trying to remember me, but I think he's going to be disappointed.
I've never met him before; I'm sure I would remember if I had.
"I'll give her directions," Mrs. Cullen quietly says.
I nod in thanks, handing the phone over silently and watch as she steps into the living room, murmuring into the device.
Awkwardly, I smile and rock back on my heels, taking the opportunity to introduce myself.
"Hi, Dr. Cullen, I'm Bella."
His eyes widen slightly as his eyebrows rise toward his hairline. His posture straightens and tenses a little as he stares at me, his head tilted to the side.
"I don't believe we've met before, though you do look familiar," he starts, his tone friendly.
"We could have met in a previous life," I reply with a grin.
He laughs heartily. "Perhaps."
"For this life, though ... no, we haven't met, but I've heard about you. Mostly from my father, Charlie."
Recognition lights in his eyes and his body slouches in relaxation once more.
"Oh, yes. Charlie and Renee Swan; I knew you looked familiar; you have the same features as your mother, but your father's eye and hair color," he says, leaning back against the counter, crossing one foot over the other, his arms spread out on either side of him. "How are they doing?"
Suspicion creeps up at his words. From the way he said it, it sounded as if he's known my parents for longer than the short amount of time they've been in town.
"They're fine. Do you know them well?"
"They were very welcoming when we first moved here. The first people we met, actually."
I feel stupid; of course, they introduced themselves. I'm sure it's the first thing my father did, not because he was being nosey, but because he's the Chief. My mother, on the other hand, she most likely tagged along because she was curious about the new residents.
"I was told you came to work on a project with my son, Edward," he begins casually. "How did that go?"
What I want to say is, "It was fine at first, Doc. We were starting to get along until he spazzed out ... again. By the way, is there something you can give him to make more … nice?"
However, I realize I can't say this. I rub at my temple with my fingers, trying to come up with the appropriate words.
"It was fine."
It's not my most eloquent or lengthy response, but it'll do.
Dr. C nods slowly, but it doesn't look like he believes me, if the knowing gleam in his eye or the smile pulling at the corner of his lips is anything to go by.
His eyes dart to the ceiling for a moment before returning to mine. It makes me wonder if he knows about the relationship, or lack thereof, I have with his son. I'm sure either Edward or his siblings have said something, considering he hasn't kept his distaste for me a secret, which tells me he probably knows or he's keeping quiet about it.
If that's the case, it's earning him major cool points in my book. While I haven't reacted in the greatest way in regards to Edward, I'm glad I'm not being lectured by a delusional parent who thinks their baby can do no wrong.
"Would you like a drink or something to eat, perhaps?" He inquires gesturing at the spotless kitchen behind him.
"No, thanks. I'm on my way out. Well, as soon as my cousin gets here."
"Did my children run you off?" He laughs, that same knowing look on his face, telling me he knows all about Edward and me.
"No, it takes a lot to scare me off."
Mrs. Cullen comes back into the kitchen then, handing me the phone. She slides into her husband's arms, laying her head on his chest. He wraps his arms around her shoulders, a content sigh leaving him as he closes his eyes, resting his chin on top of her head.
This display reminds me of my own parents; how they need to be as close as they can be to one another as if their lives depend on it. It's sweetly sickening, but it makes me happy; at least there are some people who are still in love in this crazy world.
I turn away, wanting to give them their private moment.
"Hey."
"So that was Mrs. Cullen, huh?" Rose says, curious.
"No, that was Dr. Cullen. He's very feminine. When you come over, don't stare. You'll make him self-conscious."
Muffled laughter comes from behind me as Rose huffs through the phone. "Smart-ass. All right. I'll be there as soon as I can. I didn't think they'd be living out in the middle of nowhere."
"I told you it's a difficult house to find. It's like a secret fortress or something."
"Wonderful. All right, I'm leaving now. Keep your cell phone with you in case I need to call back."
"No problem."
"'Kay, see you soon."
"Be careful."
"Will do."
Dr. C and Mrs. C are still there, their foreheads resting against one another as they murmur to one another. Wanting to give them their space, I silently slip out of the kitchen and pause in the living room. I debate about whether or not I should go find Alice or Emmett since I made vague promises to both of them. However, I don't want to assume I'd be welcome up there and I definitely don't want to take the chance of running into Edward.
Dropping my backpack on the floor, I collapse on the couch, closing my eyes. A second later, I feel the cushion dip beside me. Opening my eyes, I see Alice sitting there with a small, tentative smile.
"Are you okay? You look bad."
I laugh but say nothing about her statement. I appreciate her honesty because I'm sure I do look like shit. "Yeah. I'm tired, and I have cramps."
She wrinkles her nose, pats my shoulder once in sympathy before her hand drops heavily into her lap. "Do you need anything?"
"Nah, I'm good. I'm just waiting for my cousin to get here."
Her eyes light up for a brief moment, taking on that strange light milky quality. It's gone before I can blink, but I know for certain I saw them change.
"Your eyes change sometimes."
She hums, looking over with a strained smile. "Hmm?"
"Your eyes. They change sometimes; they get a white filmy layer over them."
Slowly she nods, her gaze drifting down her hands, where she's picking at her cuticles with sharp tugs. The sight of it makes me wince; I can almost feel the burning pain of tearing away the little slivers of skin that surround my nails.
"Yeah. It's a weird thing that happens. No one knows why," she answers softly, never meeting my gaze.
Guilt floods through me. Obviously, she's nervous about it, and I just brought it up like I was discussing the weather.
"Hey, I didn't mean anything by it; I'm sorry. Everyone has their little quirks."
She nods, crossing her legs and folding herself further into the cushion. She grabs the remote on the coffee table and turns on the huge television my father would kill for, but can probably never afford with three kids. "Let's watch some T.V. until she gets here."
"Sounds good. Where's Emmett?"
She quickly looks at me from the corner of her eye, going through the multitude of channels before landing on an 80's horror movie with terrible monster effects. "He's invested in a game right now. You're saved for today."
Good. I'm glad Emmett is preoccupied. I'm not feeling up to doing anything besides passing out and finishing the project with Edward. In that order.
"Well, wasn't there something you wanted to show me? I can look at it now."
Her face brightens. "Really? Are you sure?"
"Yeah."
She releases a low squeal and bounces once, mainly to get off the couch, and asks me to wait. She rushes off up the stairs, her feet barely making a noise against the carpeted steps.
Nearly a minute later she's back, holding a medium-sized, black photo album with gold flowers adorned on the cover.
Opening the cover, I'm immediately blown away by the black and white picture.
A stunning woman wearing a dark Victorian gown stands alone near a cliff overlooking a body of water. The sleeves drape down her arms and hug her like a second skin, while her other hand holds a lace umbrella, shielding her from the sun. Her gaze is turned upward, peering through the parasol. Her hair is in a loose up-do with curls falling down, reaching for her neck.
If I didn't recognize the special effects, I could swear this was taken in the Victorian era.
Flipping through the rest of the album, I see the same woman repeated a few times, mixed with two other light-haired women, all wearing different gowns in different locations. Like the first woman, the other two are stunningly beautiful, complementing the gothic-looking gowns well.
"This is amazing," I sincerely tell her.
Her face brightens. "Thank you. You know these dresses," she remarks, pointing out a few photos, "are the same ones. I just altered them to be different for the pictures."
My eyes bulge. "You made these?"
"Oh, heavens no! I don't have the patience. I can make alterations just fine, but making it from scratch?" Her nose scrunches as she shakes her head. "Nope. I'll admit, I did try to make one myself; I bought all of the material, a sewing machine, watched videos, read the books, but after my fifteenth screw up, I raged. Hard. I walked away from it for a while before going back. On my final attempt, the dress came out horribly! Uneven sleeves, the skirt was too long for anyone to wear and I sewed the neck halfway closed. I honestly thought I would be better at it," she muses with a frown.
"Everyone has their talents. Sewing isn't yours."
"Yeah. Plus, I love taking pictures; it's much more fun," she replies, tapping a single finger on the front of the album.
"The pictures, the dresses, they're all beautiful," I murmur, running my fingertips over the glossy cellophane protecting the image.
It looks so regal, just like a still from an old horror movie. The sudden urge to be there, to be in a dress like this is overwhelming.
"You have a talent, Alice," I continue. "You should consider photography as a career choice."
I want to ask her who the women in the pictures are, but she speaks before I can get the chance, the book clutched to her chest.
"I'm glad you liked it."
"More than liked it."
Her face shines brighter than the sun. "Thank you. I have more upstairs with my other family members. I'll show them to you some time." The happiness on her face slowly transforms into a sly grin with mischief swimming in her eyes. "Hey, would you be interested in being in a few pictures? I have the perfect dress for you!"
The doorbell rings, soft and chiming, reminding me of the church bells down the block from our house that ring during Christmas.
Mrs. Cullen comes in, a green apron tied around her front, covered with dirt, and a pair of gardening gloves, stained brown in her hands. She smiles at us as she passes through, walking gracefully toward the door.
"Hello, Mrs. Cullen. I'm here to pick up Bella." Rose's tone is tense but polite.
Mrs. Cullen steps to the side and Rose's eyes instantly seek me out. Her shoulders relax, and she twirls her keys around on her index finger, tapping her free hand against her thigh.
"Sorry, I'm late. I got turned around a few times. Ready?"
"One minute," I answer, rising from the couch. Alice jumps up, looking expectant.
"Maybe someday soon," I reply to her inquiry.
Alice squeals and jumps in excitement, pulling me into a hug and jostling my body. I release an awkward laugh and attempt to pat her on the back, but with her arms around mine, it's rather difficult.
As casually as I can, I extract myself from her grip and step back.
"I can't wait, Bella. It's going to be so much fun!"
I nod, a part of me kind of apprehensive about accepting her offer. She's so energetic and peppy … everything I'm not. Sure, I can be in a good mood, just not a perpetually happy one like Alice. Can we even be friends? Would I bring her down or would we mesh well together?
Still, I should probably try; plus, I would love to wear one of those dresses.
"Uh, just let me know when and I'll let you know," I tell her, shouldering my backpack and heading toward Rose.
"I will," Alice promises, still beaming.
"Thanks for letting me work on the project here," I tell Mrs. Cullen.
Her eyes briefly fly to the ceiling, a slight scowl on her face before she smooths her expression into a kind smile.
"Of course, it was a pleasure."
Just as I open the door, I hear Emmett's voice reverberates through the house.
"Rosalie!"
"Oh, boy," Alice mutters from behind me.
Loud, pounding footsteps shake the ceiling and stairs as Emmett comes running down the steps, pausing halfway down as a picture frame falls and shatters onto the steps. He glances at his mother, looking very much like a little boy who knows he's in trouble.
"Emmett Cullen," Esme snaps her hands on her hips. "What have I told you about running in the house? You're cleaning that up, and you better hope my picture isn't ruined."
Dr. C comes into the room. "Emmett, what did you break now?" Immediately, he spots the broken frame at Emmett's feet, looking at him in disapproval. "Your mother and I have told you how we feel about running in the house, Emmett."
He shrugs a sheepish smile on his face. "Sorry, Pops. Sorry, Ma. I'll clean it up. I promise."
Mrs. Esme's eyes narrow. "I know you will."
He shifts on his feet, his gaze turning to the ground as his mother continues to stare him down. Knowing this game, I know she'll continue to stare at him until he cleans it up at this very moment.
I bite the inside of my lip to keep in my laughter; to see this amount of fear on his face is something else. Alice and Rose, however, have no qualms about keeping their humor a secret. Emmett's gaze darts up at Rose's face, looking awed and somewhat star-struck. He takes a step toward her but pauses when Mrs. Cullen loudly clears her throat. He looks confused and put out for a moment before he follows his mother's line of sight, finding her glaring at the broken glass on the steps.
"Oh."
He jogs down the remaining steps, as the shards fall onto the landing. Stopping in front of his mother, Emmett pulls her in a huge hug. "Sorry, Ma. I'll be right back. Watch your step, everyone. I don't want somebody to get hurt."
On the way out of the room, he ruffles Alice's hair. She bats his hand away with a glare and a huff, trying to tame the frizzy mess.
"I saw you laughing at me, squirt."
"Well, if you wouldn't be so entertaining I wouldn't laugh."
Carlisle places a hand on Emmett's arm and the two converse quietly, their eyes drifting over to me for a second before looking away.
Gee, I wonder who they're talking about.
Emmett nods at whatever his father tells him before disappearing into the kitchen, returning a beat later with a small hand broom and dustpan, sweeping up the glass. He hands the broken frame to his mother with a sheepish smile as she clicks her tongue on the roof of her mouth. Carefully, she extracts the picture and sighs with relief, holding the glossy paper to her chest.
"Another picture frame," she says with a sigh, walking over to Dr. C, who kisses the side of her head.
"Let's go," I quietly say to Rose, who nods. "It's been fun," I say to the Cullens. "Thanks for having me over. I'll see you all later."
Mrs. Esme and Dr. C both smile kindly. "Of course. I hope to see you again." Dr. C nods at his wife's words, his expression sincere.
"Thanks."
"Bye!" Alice waves. "I'll let you know about the pictures soon, okay?"
I nod and watch curiously, as she turns to look at Rose, studying her for a moment. "You're welcome to come as well. You'd look fabulous in my photos."
I have to agree; Rose has what my mother calls 'old Hollywood glamor,' meaning she looks beautiful and graceful, similar to the stars of the 1940s and '50s. After watching a few old films, I immediately agreed. If she were to do her makeup and hair the right way, she would look like she stepped off the set of a black and white film.
Rose looks between Alice and me, apparently confused and Alice rushes to explain, quickly flipping through the album still in her hands.
After she's done, Rose raises an eyebrow at Alice's suggestion but doesn't comment. I know she's not completely sold on Alice, and at this point, I don't think she ever will. I can see she's not going to give her a chance, if the indifference on her face is anything to go by.
"I have plans. Maybe another time," Rose replies, her tone detached.
Alice looks put out, but nods.
Emmett opens the door, purposely standing as close as he can to Rose, who looks at him for a brief moment before leaving the house without a second glance.
At the driver's side door, Rose is looking at a small piece of paper, her eyes roaming over the page before she shoves it in her pocket and looking up at me as she unlocks the door.
"Ready to go?"
"Yeah," I reply slowly, taking in her pink cheeks and the way she's clenching her jaw in an effort to keep from smiling. "What was that?"
Her reply is quick and swift. "What was what?"
My eyes narrow. She purposefully looks away from me, getting into the car with quick, almost jerky movements.
"The piece of paper you shoved in your pocket," I respond, getting into the passenger seat.
"The directions on how to get here. I was making sure I didn't take a wrong turn going back home. You weren't kidding when you said they live out in the middle of nowhere."
Something is telling me she's not being that honest, but realistically, there's no reason for her to lie. Still, something feels off about her reaction. Is she just aggravated from being here, in Emmett's house? Or is it something else?
For the moment, I decide to let it go and buckle myself in. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a tall, pale figure in the tree line, about to emerge from the woods, but they're gone when I look up.
"What the …" Rose says, gazing in the direction I was just looking.
"What?"
"I thought I saw …" She stops, shaking her head. "I thought I saw someone come out of the woods."
"Did you see who it was?"
The look on her face clearly asks me if I'm crazy. "Does it matter? They were going for a walk in the woods. That's just too fucking creepy. I guess the rumors were true about them. Weird."
I bark out a laugh for her cursing so causally and for what she deems creepy. "Rose, this town is surrounded by woods. They live surrounded by woods. Where are they supposed to walk?"
"That's true," she concedes, "but still. Something doesn't feel right about them."
I start to reply, but I snap my mouth closed. I think I know where this is going and I know I'm probably not going to like it.
Rose has made it crystal clear that she doesn't like the Cullens, particularly Emmett. While I don't think she would force Jasper or me to stay away from them, I know she will make her opinion on hanging out with them perfectly clear.
"It'll be fine. You worry too much."
She hums but doesn't say anything, keeping her gaze on the road as we pull away from Cullen house. We drive in silence for a few moments and from my peripheral vision, I notice Rose shaking her head. Looking over at her, I see her eyebrows are drawn together, her lips pressed into a thin line as she thinks about something, tilting her head from left to right and shaking it every so often.
Whatever she's thinking is obviously stressing her out and troubling her. Wanting to distract her, I blurt out the first thing that crosses my mind. "You cursed."
A sudden burst of laughter escapes her, and she shakes her head, still laughing as she replies. "I curse."
"Yeah, but not so carefree-like. Besides, you always tell me not to curse. How is that fair?"
"First of all, there is a difference between cursing casually and using it every other sentence. The second way is much too vulgar."
I nod. "Yeah, damn it, you're right. It's too fucking vulgar. I'll stop."
She tries to look stern, but the humor and the way her lips twitch as she fights her smile gives everything away. After a moment, she loses the fight and chuckles, mumbling something under her breath. Probably wondering where I went wrong in my upbringing.
"Just don't curse too much. Before you know it, you'll be swearing up a storm, start drinking and getting into fights because you'll love the thrill it gives you. You'll get kicked out school and won't get into college, and you'll live at home for the rest of your days, listening to the old ladies declare what a shame it was that your life was wasted. That, of course, will make you drink more and we'll have to stage an intervention for you where you'll get pissed and storm out, never contacting us again. Everyone will be depressed, and we'll just be shells of the people we once were," I ramble, trying to keep a straight face as she looks at me with wide eyes and her mouth falling slack.
"How—how did you get all of that from cursing?" She blusters.
"Things spiral out of control sometimes."
"Yeah, like your brain," she retorts.
I nod firmly, crossing my arms over my chest. "Exactly."
My laughter holds off for approximately ten breaths before I let it out, with Rose joining me shortly after.
"What plans were you talking about?" I question, remember what she told Alice. "I don't remember you mentioning anything."
"I don't tell you everything."
I chuckle. While this is true, it's kind of impossible to keep something from one of us, considering we all live in the same house and we're all nosey.
"It came up this afternoon," she finally admits. "I called Vera, and she mentioned she might be able to make it to Forks this weekend. It all depends on if her teachers give difficult homework assignments on Friday."
Vera Williams. She's the only person who has remained Rose's true friend. She stood by her during the fallout and bullying with Lauren and refused to succumb to the pressures of high school just to fit in with the 'cool crowd' when everyone ostracized and intimidated her.
Unfortunately, Vera moved to Port Angeles earlier this year, but they get together whenever they have time. As of late, they haven't gotten to see each other much; instead, they call and text, but I know it's not the same.
"That'll be good for you. It's been a while since you've hung out."
"Yeah, it has," she murmurs despondently.
For a brief moment, there's a heaviness in the car that's impossible to ignore. A weighty feeling in my gut has me covering my midsection with my arms while I blink rapidly, trying to drive away the burning sensation in my eyes.
Looking over, I notice Rose's cheeks are glistening with tears. I reach over, placing a hand on her shoulder. She looks over and laughs lightly, as she wipes the moisture from her face. "I'm okay. I'm just moody. PMS is wonderful," she sarcastically utters.
Like a flip of a switch, the heaviness is gone, and I uncoil my arms, letting them rest comfortably in my lap, sighing in relief.
"Yeah, I can relate," I mutter.
"Tell me, how was your time working with Edward?"
I blow out a breath, feeling a weird hum run through my body. I ignore it, focusing on the conversation at hand. "It was strange, to say the least."
"Not surprising. Everything about them is strange. But elaborate, I'm curious."
"Well, we didn't argue the entire time."
Rose's eyebrows raise as she blinks, processing the words that I had just spoken. "Really?"
I nod. I'm right there with her in the 'surprised and completely fricking baffled' section. "Yeah. I mean, it started off rocky, but he apologized and actually cracked a joke."
"And he was nice?" She inquires, surprise lacing her words.
I throw up my hands, palms toward her. "Whoa. I wouldn't go that far."
She makes a noise of dismissal, shaking her head. "But he was polite and didn't act like he hated you?"
"Yeah."
"Weird."
"Indeed."
There's a lull in conversation as we're both in lost in thought for a minute before Rose clicks her tongue against the roof her mouth.
"Oh. I hope he's not one of those people," she cryptically says.
Turning toward her, I raise an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
She shakes her head, her lips pursed. "Nothing. Just … be careful."
"You're speaking as if I'm going to have a lot of contact with him, which I'm not. After this project is done, I'm going to ignore his existence."
Her lips quirk into a smile, her blue eyes dancing with humor as she nods. We continue the drive in silence, the purr of the engine the only sound filling our ears.
Mom is standing near the front door as we come in, immediately rushing to me, her hands brushing over my face and hair. Her eyebrows are pinched together, the corner of her bottom lip clenched between her teeth.
Rose wanders upstairs to put her purse away, digging out the piece of paper in her pocket and looking it again.
Hmm.
"Are you okay, baby? Rosalie said you weren't well."
I take ahold of Mom's flailing hands, gripping them tight. "I'm fine, Mom. It's just cramps. It'll be fine once my pain reliever kicks in."
She breathes a sigh of relief, her face smoothing as the worry in her eyes fades. "Good. Did you have fun?" She questions, a certain twinkle in her eye that I'm not thrilled with.
"We didn't murder each other, so I guess that's something for the win column."
Mom frowns in disapproval, her lips pressed firmly together her arms crossed her chest. Knowing I'm on thin ice, I quickly tell her everything I told Rose. Her displeasure at my previous words fades back into giddiness.
Pointing a lone finger, I shake my head. "Don't start. Whatever you're thinking, don't start."
"Oh come on, it's obvious he's coming around. You never know what the future will bring. The most wonderful and passionate relationships have started out with hate first."
A burst of startled laughter erupts. Has she gone insane? How and why would she think Edward and I would have any type of relationship?
The thought of it, however, does send a pleasurable warmth through me but I brush it off. It's obviously my hormones.
"Wow, you really jumped light years ahead there, Ma."
"You never know," she tells me, her words having a sing-song like effect. I roll my eyes, and the happy look on her face fades a little. "Just be careful, okay?"
"Nothing to worry about there," I rush to assure her, hoping she won't dive into the sex talk again. The first time was bad enough, knowing she was talking about her and Dad. I don't need to go through that twice.
"Worry about what?" Dad says, walking up to us. He gives me a quick hug before kissing Mom's forehead, and she smiles up at him lovingly.
"Nothing," I quickly reply. "Is dinner ready?"
Without waiting for a reply, I head into the kitchen, collapsing at the table. Jasper, having overheard my conversation, doesn't bother to hide his laughter. He grunts and glares as I kick him in the shin, smiling proudly.
"Did you get your project done?" Dad questions.
"Almost. There's still a bit more to do, but I'll work on it tonight. "
He nods and thanks Mom as she hands him a plate of food. "You could have stayed over there and finished it," he tells me.
I shake my head. "No, it was better that I left."
He eyes me for a moment before nodding. "Will you be able to finish the project here?"
"Maybe. He's supposed to email me tonight, so we'll see."
He nods once. "Let me know, okay? If you do go back there, be careful and observant. I'm sure the Cullens have taken precautions against wildlife and intruders, but to be safe, stay close to the house and don't go into the woods. If you do go outside, make sure someone knows. Two more people from Port Angeles have gone missing within the past four days, and it could be some kind of animal. I'm not sure the thing won't travel this way, okay?"
"Why do you think it's an animal?" I question. "There have been a few people that have gone missing, right?"
Dad clears his throat, straightening his back, looking at me unwaveringly. "That's right, but these people disappeared from isolated areas; a park and an abandoned store near the edge of Port Angeles. We're just looking at all possibilities."
I nod and try to ignore the strange feeling my father's news stirs in my gut.
8*8*8*8*8*8*8
Immediately after dinner, I start working on the paper and outlining the presentation. Once I have it completed, I wait for Edward's email to pop up in my inbox and eight minutes later, it does. He doesn't mention his strange behavior or hasty retreat. Instead, it's strictly business or classwork, as it were, sending me his outline for the presentation. I reply, telling him I completed mine as well. Within moments, he answers back, asking me to call him.
I dial the number he's given me slowly, wondering if this is some sort of trap.
At that thought, I roll my eyes and mutter a curse under my breath. There's not much he can do over the phone and besides, he was somewhat pleasant until his freak-out before I left.
"Hey," he answers, his tone soft and low.
"Hi."
There's a beat of silence as we listen to each other breathe before he clears his throat.
"You said you typed up your paper and did an outline for presentation?"
"Yeah. Want me to send it over?"
"Please; and I'll send mine."
He sends his stuff, and I read his part while he reads mine. I'm not going to lie; reading through his section leaves me a little awestruck and a lot envious. His writing flows easily and poetically, reading as if he's writing some grand novel that'll touch your soul instead of something for a history project. I think back to my section of the paper and grimace, imagining his face scrunching up in disgust as he reads my simple words.
"It's very good," Edward says after a minute and much to my surprise it sounds genuine. "Your section of the paper is very convincing in regards to how the impact of machines helped the world move forward into the new century. You also have an angle in there I didn't even think about. I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to change a few things in my paper, based on your angle. Is that all right?"
"Pfft. You're joking, right?"
"No," he responds, quite seriously. "You've done a good job with this."
"You're serious." I still don't believe he likes my writing, based on what I've just read from him.
"Yes," he answers slowly, as if I'm a child. "Look, I wouldn't lie about this. If I didn't like it, I'd tell you, flat out."
Lightly, I snort. I have no doubt that he wouldn't waste any time telling me I suck at something, just like he's told me off in the past.
"Can I change my section of the paper to match your angle or not? Otherwise, it won't mesh, and we'll get a bad grade. Something you've proven to be adamant about in the past."
"Knock yourself out."
I'm absolutely stunned, and I have to pinch myself to make sure I'm not dreaming. Instantly, I wince and rub at the skin of my arm, satisfied to know I'm wide awake.
So what exactly is going on? Has he realized he's been incredibly rude when I've haven't done much to deserve it?
It certainly seems that way, and if that's the case, then I guess I need to follow his example.
Clearing my throat, I stammer and stutter my way through my words, feeling like an idiot. "Your … your section was good too. I li-liked it."
There's a beat of silence, and then his voice comes through the line, low and sheepish sounding. "I studied this at my old school, so it was easy. Have you studied it before?"
"No," I answer hesitantly, treading lightly as I think through my responses.
"Well, you must be smart then. You wrote this without looking at the information."
I blink and feel warmth flood my cheeks, spreading down to my chest. Oh geez, am I blushing?
Looking down, I see the pale skin blossom in a reddish-pink hue.
Wow.
"I … uh ... read up on history a long time ago. The class was moving too slow in my opinion."
He chuckles. "You self-taught?"
"Kind of, I guess."
"I don't know many people who would do that."
"I'm not most people."
"I've learned that," he answers quietly. "You're pretty unique."
I open my mouth to respond, but the words are stuck in my throat, most likely frozen in surprise like the rest of me. I really can't believe what's happening here.
Is he a pod person? Did he have a personality transplant?
Honestly, this is so baffling to me. We're getting along ... holy Hell. Edward and I are having a conversation … and I seem to be enjoying it. What is going on here?
"Don't be so shocked. Stranger things have happened."
I'm confused for a moment before I realize I must have spoken out loud.
"Oh, shit. Damn," I breathe, covering my face with my free hand. "Sorry. I didn't realize I was speaking out loud."
"It's fine." He clears his throat. "It is kind of odd. I expected us to be at each other's throats the whole time during this project."
"Yeah, me too." It's really a surprise. I guess we can get along when he's not being an insufferable dick, and I'm not being a defensive bitch.
Imagine that.
"You enjoy speaking to me, huh?" His words are laced with humor, and I groan, hitting my head against my desk, listening to his deep chuckle.
"Don't be embarrassed. I knew you liked me."
I wave my free hand in the air, shaking my head. "Okay, whoa. Stop right there, Romeo. I don't like you. Somehow I knew compliments would go to your over-inflated head."
"What makes you think I have an over-inflated head?"
"Oh, please. I see the way people go gaga over you just walking down the hall. That has to go to your head sometimes."
"I don't like attention all the time."
"Ha! You said all the time, meaning you do like it sometimes."
There's a moment of silence before he answers. "Fine, I'll admit it is an ego booster at times."
I roll my eyes. "Of course it is. It would be for anyone after a certain amount of time."
"True."
The clock tells me we've been talking like this for nearly fifteen minutes … will wonders never cease.
He's silent for a long moment before speaking. "You know, I—"
I wait for him to continue and when it's obvious he's not, I ask him to elaborate.
"I'm sorry about the way I acted when we first met," he blurts out, stunning me into silence. "I was in a bad mood about a lot of things, and I took it out on you. I shouldn't have."
"Um, no, you shouldn't have," I reply, still shocked I'm able to form an intelligent sentence. I never expected him to apologize for that. "It's—uh—it's cool, though. I mean, it wasn't, but it is now."
He chuckles, and I scowl, knowing what he's thinking. "Calm down with your chuckles, Chuckles. I just never thought Edward Cullen would apologize. I need to get that shit on tape and send it into mysteries of the world or something. No one will believe it without evidence."
"True. It is my word against yours."
I shake my head, feeling a symphony of feelings and emotions. The biggest ones are shock and surprise. I never would dream Douche-ward would apologize and that I'd actually get along with him. It's weird to experience.
"So," I begin carefully. "What was up with you this afternoon?"
"Oh." He pauses, and a shuffling can be heard through the phone, lightly scratching against the receiver. "It's … it was nothing. I just got a headache … something I've been struggling with lately and I don't react well when I don't feel good."
Lightly, I snort. What man does? Whenever Dad or Jasper have a cold, they act as if they're on their deathbed and can't do anything for themselves. It's kind of humorous and pathetic at the same time.
"I take it you feel better then?"
"Just barely."
I hesitate for a brief moment. "I hope you feel better."
"Thanks. I—" he starts, but stops suddenly, a deep groan leaving him.
"What?"
"It's nothing. The paper is done now; our sections will mesh well, in my opinion. We just have to put it together and work on the presentation. We can do it at school during lunch or something. It won't take long."
"Okay."
"Good. I'll see you at school. I hope you're feeling better."
"Thanks." Before the word is completely out of my mouth, he's hung up the phone, but instead of pissing me off, it just leaves me feeling extremely confused.
8*8*8*8*8*8*8*8
An hour later, I'm sitting on the couch next to my parents while they watch television and I read with a heating pad draped across my belly. Rose sits in the recliner, her head lolling on the back of the chair as she texts with someone. Jasper is in his room, and while I'm curious as to what he's doing, I'm too tired and comfortable to be nosey, so I guess I'll save my inquisition for another day.
Ten minutes and three thrilling chapters later, he comes out and plops down in front of the coffee table, tossing his biology book down.
"You still have homework? I thought you completed it a couple of hours ago," my mother asks curiously.
"I … got distracted," he replies with a heavy sigh.
"Oh? Distracted by what? The phone? I thought I heard murmuring coming from your room. You know the rules, homework first."
Dropping my book to my chest, I see a twinkle in my mother's eye and a slight pink color in Jasper's cheeks as he stares down at the book in front of him harder than he needs to.
"No, I wasn't on the phone," he blurts out.
"Talking to the voices?" I tease.
"If anyone is crazy in this house, it's you."
I click my tongue and give him a mock scowl, but before I can retort, Dad beats me to it.
"Hey, we don't talk like that in this house. Use the term unbalanced. It sounds better."
Jasper laughs, and I bite the inside of my lip, refusing to smile.
"Gee, thanks, Father."
"Welcome."
After we all share a small laugh, Jasper sighs and pulls out a textbook and his notebook. "I hate homework."
I snicker because the homework he's doing is the easiest we've ever had in all of our history of going to school. I can see how difficult it would be if you weren't paying attention when the teacher gives you the answers, but luckily for me, I was and managed to finish the assignment before class was over.
Returning to my novel is difficult, thanks to Jasper's huffing and heavy sighs a few minutes later, which annoys the crap out of me. His pen is wedged between his teeth as he frantically flips through the pages, scanning them quickly before sighing and huffing repeatedly, before noisily flipping through the pages again.
"Will you cut it out?" I hiss.
"I don't get this question," he says with a growl, tapping his pen against the paper. "I can't find the answer anywhere!"
"Yeah, it's difficult when they masterfully hide the answers in the textbook," I answer, trying to read. Again. My dad snickers and my mom stifles a giggle against her hand.
"What?" Jasper asks, confused.
"The answer in your textbook," Rose answers, bored.
"Where?"
"How should I know? I'm not in your class." I retort.
"Yeah, but you have the same teacher! We just don't have that class the same hour!"
I shrug a shoulder. "Not my problem."
"Bella," he says after a moment, a slight whine in his voice.
I glance at him over my book; he's pouting and glaring at his textbook. I can't help but roll my eyes. "The teacher gave us the pages where we would find the answers, Jasper."
He gives me a blank look, and before I can say anything else, my dad speaks.
"Why didn't you hear your teacher, Jasper?" he asks knowingly.
I look between the two of them, wondering what I'm missing.
"No reason," he answers, looking everywhere but my dad. "I just have a lot on my mind."
"You wanna talk, son?"
Jasper looks grateful at my dad's offer, but shakes his head. "Maybe later? I still have a lot to sort through."
"I'm here whenever you need me," Dad says. "Just don't let your grades slip."
"You really should pay attention," Rose inputs. "You need good grades to get into college, you know."
"I'll be fine, jeez," he replies lowly and frustrated. "Bella, which pages did Mr. Banner say?"
I consider jerking him around, but I really want to get back to my book. "Two forty-two to two sixty."
"Thanks."
Nodding, I turn back to my book and block everything else out for the time being.
An hour later, Rose and my parents retire, warning Jasper and me not to stay up too late. Jasper is still working on his homework, and I still have three more chapters until I'm finished with my novel, so sleep is not an option.
However, reading isn't either because ten minutes after everyone has gone to sleep, Jasper clears his throat three times, breaking my concentration.
"What?"
"My mind is warped looking for these answers. I need a distraction. The Cullen place is awesome, right?"
I can't help but smirk at his enthusiasm. It was just a couple of days ago he was tentative about going over there, and now, he's all about it.
"Yeah, it's huge. I still can't get over it. I think you could possibly fit this house into theirs twice and still have room left over," I muse, looking around.
He nods. "No kidding! That's what I thought when I first saw it too. I don't know why they live out in the middle of nowhere, though. It's kind of odd."
"Not really. Everyone in Forks is in each other's business. If I had the choice, I would want to be as far away from my neighbors too."
"Yeah, that's true. Hey, what was up with Rosalie when you came back this afternoon? She looked dazed."
I shrug, still unsure of what happened. If I had to guess, I'd say Emmett slipped a note or something to her, but she didn't complain about it, so I don't think that's it.
"Did Emmett do something?"
"Nothing out of the ordinary, from what I saw."
"Huh." He thinks about it for a moment, deciding to let it go with a shake of his head. He looks down at his unfinished homework and groans. "I have a few more questions to answer, but everything is blurring together."
"Do it tomorrow then."
"I wish I could, but I know I'll be even more useless in the morning." He pauses for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face. "I have an idea; what if you finish my assignment for me?"
I give him a look I hope conveys he's an idiot for even making such a suggestion, but obviously I fail because he still looks hopeful I'll do it.
"I have an idea. How about no?"
"Come on," he whines, his head falling forward onto his textbook. "I'm tired."
"Then you should have finished it earlier instead of playing around."
"Please? I'll do your chores for a month, including all the cooking, cleaning and yard work." I keep my face blank. It is a good offer, but I know the punishment will be greater than the prospect of having a chore-free month if I give him the answers. "I'll pay you ten bucks," he offers, seeing his previous proposal isn't working.
"No."
"Twenty bucks and two months' worth of chores. Please?"
"You know, in all this time begging for me to give you the answers, you could have just looked them up and had them done. This assignment Mr. Banner gave us was the easiest of the year so far."
He still has a pleading look on his face, and instead of handing him the answers on a silver platter, I toss my book onto the couch and take a quick peek to see what questions he has left. With an exasperated sigh, I flip to the page the answers are on and shove the textbook in his direction.
"The answers are on these two pages." Technically, I'm not giving him the answers … I'm just showing him where they are. Exactly like the teacher did.
He huffs, but reads through the two, side-by-side pages and quickly writes them down. When he's finished, he slams the book shut, letting out a content sigh.
"Finally. No thanks to you, by the way."
I ignore him, not affected by his remark. Jasper stretches his arms and legs, releasing a loud yawn as he does so, prompting a yawn from me.
"Time for bed."
Jasper nods, shoving his things into his backpack and throwing it near the door. He does a quick check to make sure everything is locked while I turn off the lights. We exchange goodnights and start to go to our rooms.
Just as I'm ready to get into bed, I realize I don't have my water bottle.
Reluctantly, I drag myself down the steps and make my way to the kitchen. Filling the bottle, I hear a noise coming from the back door. Nothing is out of place, and the door is closed—but unlocked. That very rarely occurs. Dad is a stickler about stuff like that, not to mention I know Jasper would have made sure it was locked.
Something feels extremely weird about this, but come on, this is the Chief of Police's house. Even if it's someone from out of town, they would see the cruiser parked in the driveway and they'd run in the other direction.
I decide it's nothing but my imagination as I grab my water from the counter and turn off the lights. Just as the room is engulfed in darkness, a loud growl emanates throughout the space, the sound of it seemingly in stereo.
My eyes are slow to adjust, and I can barely make out Edward's face, but I know it's him. I'd recognize his messy hair anywhere. I take a step back, wanting to distance myself from him but he blurs toward me, his arm winding around my waist and crushing me to his front.
In the blink of an eye, he leans down, his black eyes glittering angrily under the soft glow of the light outside. He bites into my neck, slicing through my skin like butter. My eyes widen, and I suck in a choked breath as warm blood cascades down my chest, soaking my shirt. A strange growl emanates from him, and he tightens his hold, his hand bending my body back at an impossible angle.
A sickening snap echoes throughout the room and I scream ... before everything goes black.
Um ... don't mind me. I'll just be going into hiding now ... :D
I hope you enjoyed the chapter!