"Well aren't you a ray of sunshine on a gloomy day."
Alice's ears perk up at the sound of the easy, southern drawl coming from a few feet behind her.
She smiles and turns to face the speaker, but he's standing so close now that she comes face-to-face with his light grey sweater. Giggling, she rests her hand on his elbow, leaning into his side.
And it's over.
She feels herself starting to wake up, irritated that she didn't get to see her dream date's face.
She's fairly certain it was the blond guy again. It sounded like his voice.
The dreams she has with him in them are getting more frequent now. She isn't certain if it's because of wishful thinking or because they're becoming more certain, but she hopes for the latter. She wants to meet him.
Brrr. Brrr. Brrr.
The alarm on her phone sounds, buzzing and playing music too late to be of much use. She sits up and stretches, turning it off and cutting the hook to "Stupid Love" by Lady Gaga short.
Getting out of bed, Alice draws open the curtains on her window and is met with pleasant, early morning sunshine.
She knew it would be nice out today.
"Hey, Siri, play Happy Hits!" she tells her smart speaker. A stream of upbeat pop songs fill the room.
She skips into the connected bathroom, turns on the shower, and begins getting ready for school.
The first day of junior year.
She wonders if the cute guy will be in any of her classes.
She styles her short, black pixie bob to be intentionally messy, with the right amount of bounce and volume. A simple swipe of eyeliner accentuates the lash extensions she just had done a couple of days prior.
She emerges from her room wearing a denim mini skirt, white crop top, and platform sandals in the same shade of neon green as her nails.
With her Givenchy Downtown Mini Backpack slung over her shoulder and her phone in hand, she heads downstairs.
Edward still doesn't appear to be awake and he's her ride to campus.
She concentrates, trying to think whether or not she'll arrive at class on time, and gets nothing but the beginnings of a headache.
It's never worth it to try to wake him, so she makes herself a cup of coffee and grabs a croissant from the pantry in the meantime.
Esme left a note on the fridge. It reads, Have a good day at school! Dinner is at 7! She's always so sweet.
Alice's Twitter timeline is boring this morning.
She checks her stock app and is pleasantly greeted with a two-percent rise in her portfolio.
She almost has enough pumpkin spiders in Animal Crossing Pocket Camp to get the limited edition Fall Festival Golden Pumpkin Carriage, but sadly Tangy is asking for a fish that she doesn't have, so she can't get more rainbow pumpkin seeds.
She continues going through a series of apps as she picks at her croissant.
Edward should be up by now. She stands and starts a cup of coffee for him, pressing the button that makes the boring, plain kind that he likes.
It isn't until it's nearly 8:30 that he appears downstairs, looking tired and somehow more grumpy than the night before.
"Good morning!" she greets, beaming. She hands him his drink. "Happy first day of school!"
The freckled boy stares back at her nonplussed, sipping the caffeinated beverage with gusto. He jingles his car keys in his hand and nods towards the garage.
"How did you sleep?" she chimes, hop-skipping beside him to the car.
"Terribly," he mutters over the edge of his coffee cup. It appears he's going to be taking it with him on the drive.
Maybe she should have thought to put it in a travel mug.
He tosses his phone into the cup holder. Glancing down, Alice can see that he has two unread messages from Tanya: one apologizing if she woke him and the other mentioning meeting up some other time that's more convenient for him.
Edward peels out of the driveway at breakneck speed, zipping down the carpool lane, determined to get them to campus in time for their morning classes.
"Tanya texted you again?" Alice asks, watching the lake blur past as their car smoothly weaves through traffic on the bridge going into the city.
"Mm," the redhead grunts. He steers the Tesla with one hand and holds his mug up to his mouth to drink with the other. He's somehow managing to go 80 mph during rush hour and not spill.
"You should reply to her. Even if you don't want to date her, she's still a friend," she suggests. "She won't bite."
He doesn't answer, instead gulping down the last of his coffee and turning up the radio. Bon Iver's sad melodic chorus floods the car and drowns out any possibility for Alice to continue their one-sided conversation.
She hopes that he doesn't ruin the vision she had of him and the cute brunette girl sitting by him in his literature class.
With the mood he's in now, he might very well scare her off.
...
Rosalie pulls her matching Louis Vuitton luggage set behind her, walking leisurely through the airport in her red hoodie and leggings.
Oversized Tom Ford sunglasses obscure half her face and her long blond hair is pulled back in a ponytail of limply cascading waves.
She spots Jasper waiting for her in the pick-up area, standing outside his car looking particularly hungover for 2 pm on a Monday. An airport security officer is yelling at him that he can't park there, unsuccessfully trying to get him to move his crappy green Honda civic.
"Rose!" he shouts, calling her over with a worried look on his face.
Up close, his hazel eyes are rimmed with dark circles and he looks thinner than when she saw him last. His hair definitely hasn't been washed in a couple of days, but it's the navy flannel shirt that tops off the bargain-bin grunge rocker vibe.
"You look like shit," she greets, tossing her suitcase and carry-on bag into the back seat before climbing into the car.
She flips down the sun visor mirror, and a pretty blond girl with a badly split lip and heavily bruised eye stares back at her.
Jasper gets into the driver's seat and looks at her warily.
"I haven't had any coffee today. I need caffeine," she says curtly, avoiding eye contact by staring at the road ahead of them.
"You got it."
"Thanks for picking me up. I appreciate it," she murmurs, voice hoarse. "You were out drinking last night, weren't you?"
"Mhm." He nods, putting on a pair of aviators that were sitting on the dashboard and getting up to speed as they merge onto the highway. "What happened?"
"I already told you. The engagement's off," she snaps. "I've decided that I hate New York, and I don't want to live there anymore."
He tries to glance over at her again but turns back to the road when she scowls menacingly. "Did he do that?" he asks quietly.
"Are you still selling prescription drugs to freshmen?" she retorts.
They drive in silence until Jasper pulls up to a Starbucks drive-thru and orders a cold brew for himself and a latte for Rosalie.
She takes a sip. "Seriously, you'd think that you'd learn after getting yourself kicked out of school. What time did you get home last night, anyway?"
"I didn't."
She's certain that if being expelled from the academy didn't set him straight, nothing will.
It's a lot easier, Rosalie finds, to be angry with her brother than to be upset with her own situation.
"We went straight to breakfast, and then I picked you up," he elaborates with a yawn.
"You need to get your shit together, Jasper. Are you still going to finish up your degree?"
"Yeah, I was able to enroll in the university here. Classes started an hour and a half ago." He gives her a wry smile. "The first day is always boring syllabus stuff anyway, so it'll be fine."
They pass the Space Needle on their way to the north end of downtown, stopping in front of an old brick building.
Rosalie drags her things out onto the sidewalk and up the front steps unceremoniously while Jasper struggles to find his parking permit. According to him, it somehow got misplaced the night before.
Compared to her apartment back in Rochester, it's charming, she supposes.
Though charming is just another way to describe something crappy and small.
What matters is that being here is better than not being here.
Jasper jogs over to the front steps where she's waiting and takes her luggage. He buzzes them into the building, leading the way to the elevator where he presses the button for the fifth floor.
She follows him down the hall with slow, stilted movements.
She needs to lie down.
"I don't think Peter and Charlotte are home," he says when they get inside the apartment. He motions toward a small study with French doors near the kitchen that contains a black futon and a writing desk. "You can keep your stuff in there. The couch folds out into a bed."
"I know how futons work," she grumbles, rolling her eyes.
He doesn't react to her unpleasantness, instead continuing to point out things around the apartment. "The bathroom's the first door on the right. Laundry's in there too. Towels are in the closet across from that. It's fine to eat whatever's in the kitchen. I think there's cereal."
"I'm taking a shower. You should get some sleep," she says bluntly before grabbing her carry-on and disappearing into the bathroom. "Like I said before, you look awful."
...
Bella catches a ride in the morning with Jessica and Angela to class.
It's a short drive, but traffic makes it take twice as long as it should.
Once there, they find a student cafe and stop to grab something to eat while they attempt to figure out where they're all going exactly.
Angela has a paper map of the campus spread out across the table that she picked up at an information kiosk on the way in.
The three girls take turns looking through their schedules and pointing at different buildings on the map as they eat their breakfast burritos.
"Do you see how far my biology class is from the English building?" Jessica groans. "How am I supposed to get there in ten minutes?"
Angela consults her own schedule. "I have two classes in Denny hall, but there's an hour gap between them. I can eat lunch and study in that time, I guess..."
It looks like Bella's literature course is an 8-minute walk away, on the north edge of campus near the student community garden.
"We should go to a party!" Jessica says abruptly as she gets up to head to her biology lecture. "I'll ask around my classes to see what's going on!"
"Yeah, that would be fun. I'll see if I hear anything, too," Angela replies. "I'll catch you guys later!"
Bella waves to her friends and splits off toward her first class. She passes a bulletin board on her way out of the cafe advertising part-time barista positions.
Although she has a decent chunk of savings from working all summer at Newton's Olympic Outfitters, she should get a job if she wants to not starve.
Not to mention, she'll have student loans and tuition payments to deal with now.
She takes down the phone number on the advertisement and heads to her first class.
The building is old, but recently renovated, and she finds the correct room with ease. She sits in the second row, near the door, and puts her phone on silent.
Her mom sent her a text message while she was at breakfast. It reads, Have a good first day! Make lots of friends! Meet lots of boys! Love ya, Bella!
She types a quick "Thanks, I will!" back as the professor walks in. She introduces herself as Mrs. Biers and begins by reading off a list of guidelines and expectations for the class. It's a standard list of things like don't be late, don't plagiarize, and turn in your homework on time if you want a good grade.
The list of required reading looks promising.
Bella happily reads through the authors that include the Brontë sisters, Jane Austen, and Bram Stoker. This will be everything she could ever want in a class and more.
Right as the professor is about to go over the grading scale and course timeline, a young sour-faced man with dark reddish hair bursts through the door in a hurry.
"Welcome! Good of you to join us, Mr..." the older woman consults her attendance roster. "Masen? Class started over twenty minutes ago, but better late than never, I suppose. It's your tuition money."
Stifled laughter from some of the other students echoes through the room.
"Sorry. It won't happen again," the disgruntled redhead bows his head a little in apology and quickly scans the room for an empty seat, still scowling.
He's tall, with broad shoulders and high cheekbones that are speckled with a light dusting of freckles.
Though smartly dressed in a pair of khaki trousers and a navy pullover, the slightly wrinkly button-down shirt peeking out from underneath his sweater suggests he either didn't care or didn't have time to iron it out.
Bella's face flushes when she realizes the only open spot is the desk next to hers. He has to sit by her.
Mr. Masen—as the professor has called him—meets her gaze with a blank expression of agitated confusion before taking a seat.
She blushes harder. The boys in Forks were nothing like him.
"As I was saying before, you will be graded on a standard one-hundred-point scale..." Mrs. Biers continues on.
Bella tries to slyly sneak another glance at the desk beside her. He's kind of cute, despite the displeased expression.
Carefully, acting as naturally as possible—like she's casually glancing around the room—she sneaks a peek at him again.
He immediately notices her looking and shoots her an annoyed glare, eyebrow cocked questioningly as if to silently say "what the hell are you looking at?"
He's close enough now for her to see that his eyes are a bright emerald green.
He looks like he maybe had a late night and overslept based on how pallid his complexion is, but she also isn't one to judge. She isn't a bronzed summer goddess by any means. It could just be genetics.
Bella realizes she's full-on staring at him and whips her head back around to the front of the room, face burning.
She is surely bright red. He'll definitely notice. She wants to shrivel up and die.
He's good-looking, though. Probably too good. He has to be already dating someone, and, even if he wasn't, he would never be interested in someone like her.
...
Rosalie winces as she stares into the mirror fogged up with shower steam.
Dark purple bruises bloom across her arms, legs, and neck.
The big cut on her knee from falling down the cement stairs of her apartment building the night before is starting to scab over.
Her entire body hurts.
She grabs her toothbrush out of her bag and scrubs away at her teeth, concentrating on the minty fresh flavor as she studies her own face.
Her bleak expression makes her almost unrecognizable from the happy, glowing girl she was this time yesterday.
She wonders what she did to deserve this.
A spike of guilt and jealousy hits her when she remembers going to her best friend Vera's wedding the summer before last. It was perfect, and a baby shower followed shortly after in the fall.
She hasn't heard from her friend in days, but social media is a constant reminder of everything that Rosalie lacks.
Vera's husband is only middle class, and their house is all the way out in the Rochester suburbs, but she has adorable baby Henry, a new labradoodle puppy, and a loving relationship to make up for it.
When she went over to visit a few weeks ago, her friend was planting hydrangeas out front of her house and mentioned how she would be going on a painting and wine tasting outing with her mommy friends. She asked if Rosalie wanted to join. She didn't.
Running her fingers through her hair, Rosalie gingerly untangles the loose waves. She looks down at her own hands and realizes three of her glossy, light pink nails have broken off.
She'll get that fixed later.
She absently flicks open the medicine cabinet. Over a dozen different orange bottles are lined up neatly in rows. Xanax, Valium, Oxycodone...Adderall... There's also a container of cinnamon dental floss, some gauze, a razor, and a half-empty bottle of gummy vitamins.
The blond grabs the gauze and one of the gummies and snaps the cabinet back shut. Chewing on the artificially-flavored grape bear, she wraps the broken skin snaking up her thigh.
Rosalie changes into a different pair of leggings and an oversized band tee and limps back to the den.
Jasper pulled the futon out and left a throw blanket and pillow for her while she was showering, but he isn't anywhere to be seen. She hopes he's in his room sleeping like she told him to do.
She hasn't checked her phone since she got the flight information the night before, and she isn't surprised to see that her father left a voicemail for her.
She doesn't want to listen to it. She already knows what he's going to say.
His big business deal, like her engagement, just fell through.
Her ex-fiancé and his family are majority shareholders for her and Jasper's father's investment firm. The future of their family business depended on her engagement to Royce. It's all her fault.
She taps once on the play button for the message and listens to her father's familiar, gruff voice.
"Rosalie, we need to talk. I was just informed that you called off your engagement with Royce. You're well aware of how much this marriage would mean for our family and our business. Your mother and I don't understand what happened. You need to think of the repercussions of your decisions. This is a once in a lifetime—"
Her eyes are stinging. A lump forms in her throat.
She deletes the message before it finishes playing, pulls the throw blanket around her shoulders, and lays down on the little futon.
If she could erase this whole mess from ever happening, she would in a heartbeat.
