"So, how's Seattle? Did you meet any cute boys?" Renée's cheerful voice trills from the phone speaker. "Tell me all about it, Honey!"

Bella rolls her eyes and skirts the question. "I've only been here two days. It's not like there's a parade of potential suitors lined up the second I walk into class."

"That's kind of what happened when you first moved back to Forks, isn't it?"

Her mom's right. There was a lot of excitement and awkward flirting from her male classmates when she transferred to Forks High in the middle of her sophomore year. Bella hated it.

"This is different. It's a city, not a little town," she counters. "My professors are nice so far. I had literature and biology yesterday. And today I have Intro to Journalism."

"How's living with Jessica and Angela? Are you girls getting along?"

"Yeah! It's really fun. We spent all last night watching The Great British Bake-Off and eating cookies," Bella answers. She avoids mentioning what happened with Edward. She doesn't need her mom asking about him every time they talk or worrying that she's going to fall to her death at the library.

Her mom talks about Phil and the baseball tour for a while before promising her that they'll chat again soon.

Renée's questioning reminds her of something she's been meaning to do, though.

Bella pulls up Google on her laptop, types in "Edward Masen Seattle," and hits search.

She can't stop wondering about the grumpy, red-headed, Bram Stoker enthusiast she nearly pushed down the stairs the other night. She needs more information and doesn't want to wait until their next literature class to bombard him with questions. That would seem desperate and clingy, and he's so cool.

The top search result is for LinkedIn: Edward Anthony Masen, Jr., student at University of Washington School of Law.

He's been a member of the annual Dean's List for two years in a row, he's fluent in Spanish and Italian, and he's participated in the Seattle Piano Institute's summer program for the past six years.

Impressive.

She goes back to Google and clicks on the second result. The Midnight Sun Podcast.

It says the show airs every Sunday night and is hosted by Edward Masen. The page is simple, with just a short schedule of past shows and links to some platforms where it's available to listen.

Bella clicks on the most recent broadcast and is treated to a series of classical pieces, jazz, and alternative rock. Edward cuts in between songs with thoughtful commentary every so often.

She falls back onto her bed and closes her eyes. It's not bad. Not bad at all.

"Bella, do you want ice cream?" Angela asks, knocking on her door and interrupting Bella's quiet appreciation for her classmate's podcast.

Jessica wastes no time and opts to just barge in Bella's room with two tubs of Ben and Jerry's in hand. "Ugh, Edward Masen," she groans, seeing the page pulled up on Bella's laptop. "What are you doing looking at his resume for?

"You know him?" Bella asks. "He's in one of my classes."

"No, not personally, but I've heard things. He's super-rich and he runs that indie podcast that only plays weird music. His dad was a lawyer for some of the wealthiest people in the area, but he and his wife passed away a few years back. It was all over social media. They had a memorial thing downtown at his office...did you seriously never hear about it?"

Bella is thoroughly impressed at Jessica's ability to gather information about people she doesn't know. "Um...no. I was living in Arizona up until a couple of years ago. And before last week, I'd only ever visited Seattle a handful of times."

"Whatever. Edward was adopted by one of their family friends who's, like, Seattle's hottest young doctor. His name is Carlisle Cullen—talk about a dreamboat! Here, search him up next," Jessica shoves Bella over and starts typing in the search bar. "See? Hottie! My cousin had to go to the emergency room to get her appendix removed last year and totally lucked out when he was her doctor."

A professional photograph of a young, clean-cut blond man in a doctor's coat appears on the screen.

Bella closes her laptop abruptly and laughs. Jessica's not wrong, but that doesn't make it any less embarrassing.

"If you're trying to date Edward, don't waste your time," Jessica advises. "He doesn't date. None of the girls around here are good enough for him. And believe me, a lot are trying to get him to change his mind. His inheritance is huge."

"And he chooses to stick around here and go to a public university?" Bella asks skeptically. "It seems like he should be over at a place like Stanford or Yale if he's that big of a deal."

"Yeah, well, who knows. Maybe he likes being a big fish in a little pond." Jessica takes a big bite of her Cherry Garcia ice cream. "He probably the type to need his ego stroked. Seriously, have you seen his hair?"

"It is pretty nice hair," Angela agrees, nodding.

Bella rolls her eyes takes the tub of Phish Food Jessica brought her.

So he's good-looking, rich, talented, and an orphan. She wonders if he roams the streets of Seattle at night fighting crime in a Batsuit, too.

Jessica's internal gossip database seems to be exhausted when it comes to matters on Edward, though. Bella will have to ask him herself if she wants more information.

...

Rosalie swigs down a cup of hot coffee and grabs a granola bar out of the cupboard.

The sun's just barely rising when she decides that she needs to get out of the house. A hike will help clear her head. She's tired of sitting around and watching TV.

Thankfully she brought a pair of running shoes and plenty of leggings and sweatshirts with her in the hurried scramble out of her old apartment.

What she didn't think to bring is her makeup or favorite hair conditioner. She's had to use Jasper's sea salt and bergamot shampoo all week, which—according to her nose—means she smells like a cup of Earl Grey if it were brewed in dirty ocean water.

Headphones also weren't a top priority on her list of things to pack, so it will have to be a silent hike.

Rosalie grabs the keys to Jasper's Honda and sets her phone's navigation app to Discovery Park.

She wrinkles her nose at the "MAINTENANCE REQUIRED" lighting up the dash and glances at the service sticker on the window that says the oil was last changed ten months ago.

Peter and Charlotte came back at around 4 am without her brother, and—knowing what kind of things he's into lately—she doubts he will show up anytime soon. She guesses he probably went home with someone.

She needs his car more than he does right now.

The weather can only be described as drizzly. The sky is grey and rain clouds have been drifting in and out periodically all morning.

She parks Jasper's car in the visitor's lot, tucks the key away in her jacket pocket, and sets out onto the wooded trail.

The terrain is easily suitable for someone with no experience hiking, so she doesn't feel as if she's overexerting herself by any means. There's supposedly a lighthouse on the other side of the trees with a pretty view of the lake.

Earlier that morning, the doctor she saw Sunday night called her with her test results to let her know she is in the clear.

She was also advised to file a police report and was given a number to call. They said they'll keep her information on file in case she needs the information to press charges.

Considering how powerful and affluent Royce's family is, that hardly seems like a wise decision. She can only imagine that it would make things worse.

Rosalie lets herself get lost in thought and she can see the water before long.

She sits on a piece of driftwood and watches the waves roll in, enjoying the view as seagulls fly around overhead.

Life sucks, but at least she has this.

"HELP!" a man's voice abruptly cries out in the distance.

Rosalie looks around and sees no one.

Great, she must be hearing things now. She went from being a hot, young, engaged nurse and the King Family heiress to clinically insane in one week.

"HEEEEELP! Can anyone hear me?!" the voice calls out again. "HEEELP!"

She considers ignoring the voice and continuing her peaceful morning watching the water, but the voice remains persistent in its shrieking.

The rain and the fact that it's a Tuesday morning means that there isn't anyone else around to help if it really is an emergency.

Rosalie sighs loudly and gets up from her seat and starts walking in the direction of the screams.

She finds the man lying at the bottom of a rocky ledge.

He's very tall and very muscly with dark curls and a sleeveless shirt that says "do you even lift, bro?" across the front. He looks like he's about her age.

He's bleeding heavily from his head and his leg looks very broken.

Rosalie feels a sense of urgency and her heart rate starts to climb when she sees how bad he's hurt. He needs medical attention immediately.

"I'm calling for help now. What happened?" she asks as she dials 911 on her phone.

"Thank god, someone came! I thought I might be the only one out here!" he exclaims. "Wait, unless...did I die? *Fuck*. I'm dead, aren't I?"

"You're not dead, calm down. We need to get your head and shoulders elevated or you're going to bleed out before they have time to get here," she tells him. "Stay still and stop talking so much."

Carefully, she tries to get his head up into her lap. He's very heavy.

The emergency services operator picks up and Rosalie answers the woman's questions, telling her where they are and that it's important that they hurry. She's instructed to stay on the line until the ambulance arrives.

"I was running off-trail because grass is a lot healthier on joints than pavement. This doesn't look so healthy, though, now that I think about it," the guy says, looking down at his bad leg and motioning to the awkward angle his shin is twisted in. "And I left my phone in my Jeep because I didn't want the guys interrupting me while I'm in the zone."

*What an idiot.*

He looks up at her, seemingly taking her in for the first time with a stupid puppy-eyed grin. "Hey, what's your name? Let's get drinks sometime."

He must be delirious from the hemorrhaging if he's seriously trying to chat her up while he's lying in a puddle of his own blood.

"Rosalie," she answers. "Shut up."

"My name's Emmett," he continues. "Wow, I can't believe my luck. It's like you're some kind of angel sent from heaven to save me. You're so pretty."

She's used to being looked at and complimented, but never under these circumstances. She supposes it's good that he's feeling well enough to be so obnoxious. It is a little bit flattering.

The ambulance arrives after what feels like forever and they promptly load Emmett onto a stretcher.

The emergency response team is trying to shut the doors and Rosalie is just getting ready to leave when Emmett starts shouting again.

"Wait! My angel! Don't leave without her! Rosalie! I need her with me! She saved my life!"

"Miss, is he your boyfriend?" the paramedic asks. "You can ride with us to the hospital if so. We have to get going now, though. His injury doesn't look good."

She's about to say no and leave it at that, but she realizes there's blood all over her clothes and she doesn't want to have to hike all the way back to her car now.

She can also use this as an opportunity to scope out her future workplace, assuming Carlisle was successful in recommending her and her residency was approved.

With a sigh, she gets into the back of the ambulance.

On the way to Harborview Medical Center, Rosalie finds out that Emmett is a university student, his favorite kind of pizza is supreme, and he thinks that the secret to quality muscle gains is putting protein powder in beer.

The hospital staff gets Emmett set up in a room and a nurse helps staunch the bleeding on his temple while they wait for the emergency medical specialist to arrive.

By Rosalie's passive assessment, he's likely going to need some staples and he'll be on crutches for a few weeks.

"You're amazing, babe. You saved me out there," Emmett babbles. He has a great smile. He hasn't stopped grinning and showing off his straight, white teeth and boyish dimples since they got out of the ambulance.

He's overdoing it.

Thankfully the doctor comes in before Emmett can sing any more praise.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Cullen," the young blond man says as he comes into the room. "It sounds like Mr. McCarty here broke his leg and suffered quite a bad head injury."

"Nah, I'm good now. I'll just walk it off," Emmett jokes with a wave of his hand.

Rosalie's eyes snap to the doctor's name badge. Carlisle Cullen.

"Oh god," she exhales to herself, hiding her face in her hands.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hale," Carlisle says. "I'm not sure if they've reached out to let you know yet, but I believe you're our new intern."

This isn't the first impression Rosalie was hoping to make. She's mortified.

"I haven't gotten a call yet, but that's great!" she says with a smile, shaking his hand. "I just wanted to have a relaxing morning hike, but then this all happened..."

"Did they get you all taken care of as well?" Carlisle asks.

He's referring to how her eye is still heavily bruised and her lip is in the process of scabbing over. "Um, no, this isn't from today. I'm fine, thank you," she answers, embarrassed. "It looks like Emmett's going to be fine, so I'm going to head out. I have to return my brother's car."

"That's fine by me. I look forward to seeing you at work next week, Miss Hale," Carlisle gives Rosalie another sparkling smile. He's a regular McDreamy with those looks.

"Wait!" Emmett protests. "I need a pen. Rosalie, wait a second."

Carlisle hands him a pen from his coat pocket and Rosalie, bewildered, walks back over.

Emmett grabs her hand and writes a series of numbers on her palm. He winks. "Call me."

...

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Light droplets of cool rain hit Jasper's face, waking him.

He opens his eyes and finds himself curled up on a park bench feeling like he swallowed a bag of sand. Peter and Charlotte are nowhere to be seen.

He reaches for his phone in his jacket pocket and thankfully it's there. The clock reads 10:17 am.

Perfect. His psych class doesn't start until three, so he has plenty of time to call a ride, get showered, and get to class.

The screen goes black.

"Shit," he curses under his breath.

His phone is dead. He forgot to charge it before they went out last night.

Jasper recognizes the area around him to be Volunteer Park.

He knows a good diner that's about a block away. Maybe he can have someone call him a cab and get some eggs and hash browns while he waits. His stomach is growling.

In the short walk to his destination, the rain picks up and manages to completely and utterly soak him. He looks like he decided to spontaneously go for a morning swim fully clothed.

Maybe he won't need a shower after all.

The diner is moderately busy for a weekday, the sound of friendly conversation hitting his ears and making him wish he didn't have a raging hangover.

Before the waitress even has a chance to ask him how many are in his party, a young woman with short, black hair jumps up from a booth and waves him over enthusiastically.

Confused, he ambles over towards her table.

"You kept me waiting long enough," she says in a soft, airy voice. She tucks one side of her choppy hair behind an ear, smiling.

He doesn't recognize her. He wonders if he met her the night before.

Although, he can't imagine forgetting someone like her, even if he was blacked out. She stands out so much. She's that kind of person that sticks with you.

Everything about her is very petite except for her eyes, which are enormously large and brown. Her pale yellow sundress and matching gold jewelry are extraordinarily stylish. Then there's her personality. She seems exceptionally bubbly and outgoing.

He must have drunk way too much.

"My apologies, ma'am," he says.

She smiles bigger. "You're forgiven!"

"Where do I know you from?"

"Here," she giggles.

He doesn't understand what that means, but he smiles at the odd response.

"Have a seat! Let's eat breakfast," she suggests, moving her long, brightly-colored nails animatedly as she speaks.

Jasper does as he's told. He's hungry and not in the mood to worry too much about someone so obviously full of morning cheer. Maybe she's one of Charlotte's friends from school.

He sifts through the menu briefly before deciding that nothing else sounds better than hash browns, eggs, and drip coffee. The brunette sitting across from him orders avocado toast with orange juice.

He rubs his eyes tiredly and stifles a yawn.

"Didn't sleep well?" she asks, keeping up the same jovial tone. "You look a little wet."

"Yeah, I woke up in the park with a dead phone," he says wryly, his hair still dripping every so often onto the shoulders of his jacket. "I'm very confused."

"Mhm, it seems so. Usually, people prefer sleeping in the comfort of their own homes. Especially in Seattle where it rains so often."

He laughs. "No, about why you called me over. Do you recognize me from somewhere? You said you were waiting for me and I don't remember making plans with anyone."

"Um...kind of?" Her voice rises an octave, her gaze drifting around the room while she seemingly contemplates whatever it is she's going to say. "Okay, so promise not to laugh?"

He takes a sip of coffee amusedly. "Mhm."

Her expression takes on a sudden seriousness. "You're the man from my dreams."

Jasper laughs so hard his ribs hurt. That has to be the most unexpected pick-up line he's ever heard. He struggles to regain composure.

"I mean I saw you in my dreams. I sometimes see the future," she elaborates, giving an awkward, insincere laugh.

He gets the impression that he's hurt her feelings.

"My apologies, I didn't keep my promise," he puts his hands up in surrender. "I'm afraid I mistook your admission of clairvoyance as you attempting to flirt."

Alice sticks her tongue out at him, making a face. "I'm trying to do that too."

The waitress brings out their food and tops off his coffee before leaving again.

"Do you often call strangers over in public because you see them in dreams?" he asks lightheartedly between bites.

"Nope, this is the first time," she replies, nibbling on her toast. "You seemed nice enough, so I thought I'd give it a shot. Are you a student?"

"I thought you said you can see the future. You don't see me flunking out of undergrad yet?" he teases.

She tilts her head thoughtfully. "No, it doesn't work like that. You need a ride, though, right? I can call you one."

Jasper nods. "I do need a ride if you'd be so kind."

Despite only eating half her toast in the time it took Jasper to devour his entire plate, she stands up to leave. "I have to get to my morning class soon. You should probably go get dried off and charge your phone."

He sets a couple of twenty-dollar bills on their table and gets up too.

She's even smaller than he thought. Maybe five feet, at best. He towers over her.

"I don't believe I got your name. I'm Jasper," he says, outstretching his hand.

She gives him a beaming smile and shakes it. "Alice."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Alice."

...

Rosalie is back in the den at Jasper, Peter, and Charlotte's apartment, lying down with the door shut and a blanket wrapped around when she hears the front door open.

Peter and Charlotte erupt in a chorus of cheers.

"Jasper!" Charlotte says in disbelief. "We weren't sure if you were going to make it back to us. We haven't heard from you all day."

"Yeah, thanks for abandoning me, you guys. My phone died," Jasper complains. Rosalie can hear him walking around the kitchen and getting something out of the fridge. "Shit. I didn't get her number."

"So you did go home with a girl! Does that mean you're finally over what's-her-face?"

"Ah...No, it's not like that."

"No, you didn't get laid? Or, no, you're not over that bitch who almost got you charged with a felony?"

Rosalie wonders who they're talking about. She didn't know he had a girlfriend before, but she vaguely remembers a few different girls always being in group photos with him and his friends.

Unfortunately, everything on his Instagram was deleted last spring, so she can't snoop now. She doesn't have Peter and Charlotte added as friends either, and their accounts are both set to private.

"You know what, don't worry about it," Jasper replies. "Did you guys take my car earlier? It wasn't here when I first got home and left for class, but it is now, so I assume it wasn't stolen."

"Nah, that was all Rosalie," Peter says. "Congratulations on making it to a class, though! How'd you swing that?"

Rosalie stops listening to their conversation out in the living room and pulls up her phone contacts.

She should call Vera and update her to let her know she's okay.

Plus if she's going to start working again next week, she'll need her scrubs and things sent over from her apartment in Rochester. She's doubtful that either of her parents will agree to help without a detailed explanation of what happened, but surely Vera will.

She dials her friend's number and waits anxiously for her to pick up.

"Hello? Rose?" Vera's familiar voice comes through the line. "Where have you been? Is everything okay?"

"Hey, I'm in Seattle," Rosalie replies sullenly. "Things didn't work out with Royce. It's...complicated, but I called it off. Do you think you can get some of my stuff from my apartment and ship it to me?"

"Aw, of course, I can. Send me the address. I'll go tomorrow afternoon to pick them up," Vera agrees. "I thought everything was going so well with you two!"

Rosalie gives her some vague excuses, citing general things like differences and bad chemistry, and then Vera excitedly fills her in on how Henry said his first word, mama.

It's hard hearing her friend talk about being so happy when she's so far from it herself.

After their brief banter ends, they say goodbye, and Rosalie texts her the mailing address. Vera's been to her apartment several times, so she should be able to find her way around.

Sighing, Rosalie looks down at the ten digits scrawled messily across her palm. They're already starting to fade away.