"Edward, could you do me a favor?" Esme asks, stopping him at the bottom of the stairs.

"These are for Carlisle's new resident, but he forgot them when he left this morning. I have plans with Alice, so I can't take them over," she continues, holding a bouquet of flowers from the garden. There's a card stuck in the center that reads, Welcome Rosalie!. "Do you think you could drop them off for me, please? Are you headed out that way?"

Esme is always making thoughtful gestures and being very welcoming of others. Her absolute kindness makes it hard to say no to her.

"Sure, yeah, I'm just going to campus, but it can wait," he agrees, taking the flowers. "I'll grab lunch with Carlisle while I'm there."

"Wonderful! Thank you!" she says with a smile. "I'll let him know you're on your way."

Traffic is light going into downtown.

Edward listens to one of his in-progress playlists while he drives. It's an eclectic mix of alt-rock, punk, and grunge. He can't seem to get the overall feeling right. He wonders if it needs more indie metal.

The hospital receptionist recognizes him right away. She tells him to go up to Carlisle's office with the promise that she'll page him to let him know he has a guest.

He isn't back in his office yet when Edward arrives.

The door is open, though, and a nurse with long blond hair and ruby red lipstick the same color as her scrubs is sitting in one of the visitor chairs, reading through some paperwork. She twirls a curl that's sprung free of her ponytail idly with a manicured finger. She looks around the same age as him, so she must be an intern or newly graduated.

Edward knocks on the side of the door frame. " Hi, did Carlisle step out?"

The blond gives him a once over before answering in a disinterested tone and returning to her reading, "Mhm."

Edward surpasses the urge to let out an impatient sigh. Her complete lack of helpfulness makes her seem stuck up. "Do you know when he will be back?" he asks, his tone becoming unintentionally unpleasant.

"Not really," she replies unhurriedly. "He went to get coffee downstairs, I think."

"They just paged him that I was heading up five minutes ago. Why would he go downstairs?" Edward thinks aloud.

"I'm sure he's coming back soon," she says dismissively.

Edward huffs, causing the girl to look back up at him with an icy glare.

She looks down at the flowers he's holding. "Are those for me? Are you a delivery boy or something?"

"No," Edward snaps, biting back the urge to say something nasty back to her about how she should probably spend less time on her hair and makeup and more time on having basic people skills if she's planning on working in medicine. He can't imagine her bedside manner is any better.

"Liar. It says my name on it," the blond asserts, pointing to the card. "Welcome Rosalie."

Edward looks down at the card and back up to the self-proclaimed Rosalie in front of him. She's the new resident nurse Carlisle's taking in.

"Honestly, if that's how you deliver flowers to people, your boss should fire you." She laughs caustically. "Do I need to sign or something for you to go away?"

This has to be a joke. She's a rude, self-entitled bitch.

"Edward! There you are!" Carlisle says, coming down the hallway with a cut of hot coffee and a big smile. "I see you've met Rosalie. She just moved here from New York. She graduated at the top of her class in her nursing program back in Rochester."

Reluctantly, Edward hands Rosalie the flowers.

She gives him a smug smile. He grimaces.

"Rosalie, this is Edward. We grew up together and he's like a little brother to me. He's a student over at the University of Washington's School of Law. He's also minoring in piano. He plays beautifully."

"Mm, cool," Rosalie says in a tone that suggests she couldn't care less as she fusses with a sunflower.

"The flowers are from our home garden. My wife Esme has a bit of a green thumb," Carlisle continues enthusiastically. "Last summer Edward helped build these gorgeous hydrangea trellises that go up the front of the house. They're stunning when they bloom."

Edward seethes. He's been set up. There's no other explanation for why Carlisle would be so dead set on talking him up. It was probably Esme's idea all along to have him bring the flowers by.

"Carlisle, a moment," Edward says pointedly.

Carlisle looks taken aback but follows him out of the office and down the hallway.

"What the hell?" he hisses as soon as they round the corner.

Carlisle's face is the picture of perfect innocence. "You're going to have to elaborate. I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Why are you trying to set me up with your new resident?!" Edward demands. "She's hostile. Vain. She probably thinks the idea of a good time is getting drunk in Cabo for spring break and watching reality television."

"I'm doing nothing of the sort. I was just introducing you two since you're both here. And Rosalie's a perfectly lovely young woman. We've been chatting all morning."

He's beyond irritated. He's pissed. "And you conveniently forgot the flowers Esme left by the door? Then left your office as soon as I got here? Likely story."

"Edward, calm down," Carlisle groans. "There's no need to be melodramatic."

"You can eat lunch with stupid Rosalie since you're such good friends with her now," Edward reprimands heatedly.

He storms out of the hospital and gets in his car, slamming the door shut. Cranking up the music, he rests his forehead on the steering wheel, taking a steadying breath.

"Aaaaaah!" he screams as the familiar soothing sound of "Clair de Lune" fills his car.

...

Alice scrutinizes the clothing rack before her, thoughtfully considering each piece one by one.

"What do you think about this?" she asks, holding up a light pink blazer and skirt set. "With maybe a cream blouse and some heeled boots?"

Esme looks over and takes a sip of her green juice. "It's cute! You should get it."

Alice grins and drapes the garments over her arm. Humming a tune to herself absent-mindedly, she inspects a button on a pair of studded jeans before setting them back down. "I applied for a fashion internship in Paris this summer. It would be a good opportunity to brush up on my French and build my portfolio at the same time."

"That would be so much fun!" Esme enthuses. "I want to go too! I'll have to come visit. My French is awful, but what I wouldn't do for some good champagne and cheese and—ooh—the Louvre!"

"Don't forget macarons!" Alice adds. She holds up a pair of sequin bellbottoms. "Are they too much? Even for something like New Year's Eve?"

Esme's expression voices her silent disapproval, but Alice continues to carry them around with her anyway. She wants to wear them out to a party sometime.

"I finally figured out the floor plan on that A-frame out in Snoqualmie and sent it over to my client last night," Esme says, picking up a floral midi dress.

Alice shakes her head. She has enough floral dright now.

"No? Okay. Anyway, I put in the cutest little playroom under the stairs for the kids. I thought I'd do like a planetarium type thing with a constellation light fixture. And then—how about this?" Esme holds up a denim chambray shirt, just like the one she got last spring and never wore.

Alice shakes her head again.

Esme continues talking. "They also want to do this cool wading pool with iridescent mermaid tiling on the walls and floor. I think it's going to turn out incredible. The water is going to look iridescent in the sun."

Alice hands her a lavender satin spaghetti-strap dress.

"Ooh, yes, I love this!" Esme says, taking the garment from her and holding it up to herself in a mirror to see how it'll look.

"I've been thinking of dancing again," Alice admits. "I'm not sure, though. I might not like it."

"Like classes? In a studio?"

"Maybe."

Esme picks up a pair of gold strappy heels and walks with her back towards the fitting rooms. "I would love to see that. Either way, I support you."

"Thanks," Alice says noncommittally. "I'll have to think about it more."

Esme looks as if she wants to say something, but doesn't. She already knows Alice doesn't remember much of her childhood, so there's no use asking again. She already knows all there is to know.

"I'm going to go try this on. I'll be out in a minute," Esme says.

Alice sits on one of the fabric poufs beside the fitting room Esme chooses. "Sure, I'll be waiting. I want to see how it looks."

She pulls up the schedule for dance classes at the university gym, then when she doesn't see anything but hip hop and rumba this quarter, she searches for a nearby studio.

Something low-key to test the waters won't hurt. An intermediate ballet class twice a week just for fun.

She wonders if getting back in there will trigger some sort of horrible recollection, or if she'll still be completely clueless as to why her only childhood memories are of dancing in a tiny little studio back in Biloxi.

Alice tries to focus on if anything will come of her recent decision but gets nothing. Annoyed, she wonders what's the use in having prophetic abilities if they aren't even on demand.

All she ever gets are random, abstract blips of upcoming events invading her thoughts and dreams.

As if on cue, a crystal-clear vision of Edward angrily slamming on piano keys in the living room and throwing a stack of composition notes he's been working on pops up in her mind.

She sighs and hopes that she won't be home to witness that later. His moods stress her out.

Esme comes out of the dressing room in the light purple dress and does a little spin. "How does it look?"

"Amazing! You're so pretty Esme!" Alice compliments. "Now we need to throw a party where you can wear it!"

"You're always thinking of everything," Esme says with a laugh, heading back into the dressing room.

...

"So I was out at Discovery Park running off-trail when I lost my footing and rolled my ankle. I went down the hillside, got super scraped up on all these rocks and shit, and smacked my head on a boulder. I thought I died!" Emmett recounts to a group of his football teammates gathered around in the dimly lit bar.

His leg is propped up on a nearby stool so his friends can sign his bright orange cast while he sips on a bottle of Guinness. It's gathered a large collection of doodles and messages in the hour since he's arrived.

"I didn't have my phone or anything, so I just start shouting for help. So I'm yelling and yelling and—just as I start to think I'm going to bleed out and die or something—this amazingly gorgeous angel of a woman appears. I'm talking bombshell. Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition level hot—"

"You got a concussion and started hallucinating didn't you?" the team captain Riley jokes, starting a round of laughter.

"Well, yeah, I got a concussion, but she's real! I wasn't imagining it. She's a nurse at the medical center downtown and she saved me," Emmett assures them. "Her name's Rosalie. She's so nice, too. She rode with me in the ambulance and everything."

"If she's so real, where is this Rosalie, then?" Raoul asks incredulously.

Diego laughs. "She probably took one look at him and ran! If she's as perfect as Em says she is, she has no business sticking around."

"Yeah, whatever, you guys," Emmett says, brushing them off. "The joke's on you guys when she finally decides to call me back."

"Sure, whatever," replies Riley. "Who wants to play some pool?"

The group follows Riley over to the billiards tables with their drinks, leaving Emmett at the bar alone.

"Okay. I'll just hang out here. Don't worry about me," Emmett calls after them. He could follow them over there, but he's too comfortable where he is to bother.

He gulps his beer and hears the beginnings of "Dirrty" by Christina Aguilera come on overhead. He pumps a first in the air. "Oh, hell yeah, this is my JAM!"

"You sure do love your 90s pop divas," someone says beside him.

Emmett looks over and sees a lanky-haired blond guy with a glass of something that looks like whiskey. Emmett recognizes him from somewhere. He must either be in one of his classes or they've partied together before.

"Well, yeah, the 90s are the golden age of modern music! You have Britney Spears, P!nk, The Spice Girls, Destiny's Child..." Emmett explains.

"Mariah Carey?" the blond asks.

"Exactly! I can keep going, but I think you get the point," he says confidently. "There's no better genre of music."

"What happened to your leg?"

"I fell off a trail and almost died. It's no biggie. I met a super cute girl because of it—so it was totally worth—but she hasn't called me yet."

The blond laughs and finishes his drink. "Bummer. I'm sure if she wasn't interested before, all those dicks your friends drew on your cast would really woo her."

Emmett looks down at the crudely drawn penises and lets out a snort.

Another even blonder guy walks up and ruffles the first guy's hair. "Hey, Jasper, let's go. Charlotte wants to get cotton candy Jell-O shots down the street."

"That sounds god awful," Jasper objects, crinkling his nose in disgust.

"They also have fried cheese on a stick," Jasper's friend says.

He isn't convinced. "Is that supposed to be better?"

"Yeah, well, stick around here if you want, but don't come home all bent out of shape about how we left you again."

"I'm coming, I'm coming..." Jasper relents.

The pair pay their tab and weave their way through the crowded bar out to the street.

Emmett sings along merrily to the NSYNC song beginning to play and orders another beer.

The Sunday night crawl is his favorite time of the week. It's more mellow than Friday or Saturday, there's football playing on the flatscreen in the corner, and he can ignore the fact that he has to go to a 10 am Business Statistics class for a few hours longer.

Loud cheering erupts from the billiard tables. Riley scored the winning shot against Diego, and the loser has to drink a shot of ghost pepper hot sauce.

That's going to burn.

His phone dings and Emmett looks down, hoping that maybe—just maybe—his angel finally texted him.

But she didn't. It's just an alert for a five-dollar burrito delivery coupon.

He could go for some guac and steak right about now. He pulls up his app and hopes they'll deliver to the bar.

...

Alice tip-toes down the stairs of the dark house, grabbing the keys to Edward's Tesla on her way into the garage.

It's only 7 pm, but Edward shut himself in his room after dinner, and Esme and Carlisle are watching a movie together in their room, so Alice is bored.

She decides it's time to test her theory about jogging her memory through ballet.

She throws her sports duffle into the passenger seat and starts up the car. Her phone automatically pairs with the sound system and resumes the Dua Lipa song she was listening to earlier.

It doesn't feel like Edward will notice her taking the car, but it doesn't not feel like Edward is going to notice her taking the car.

He normally hates her driving any of his precious babies. He would probably throw a tantrum if she so much as breathed on his Aston Martin's steering wheel.

It's all because she accidentally wrecked his shiny silver Volvo last year.

Alice got a particularly strong vision of hitting a patch of ice and sliding off the road, which—ironically—led to her not seeing the patch of ice ahead of her and sliding off the road.

She was fine, but the car was not.

The Tesla has a fancy auto-driving feature that prevents lane drifting and reacts when things get too close, so it's much safer. The Volvo wasn't that cute, anyway.

Alice parks in the student lot beside the student gym, swipes her ID badge, and heads up to the third floor. There's an empty studio there with floor-to-ceiling mirrors, some mats, and a ballet barre that wraps around half the room.

Shuts the door behind her and changing out of her sneakers, she puts in her earbuds and sets her phone to shuffle. The Billboard 100 hits play while she warms up.

She tosses her sweatshirt over by her bag and watches the mirror to make sure the Alice staring back at her keeps good form.

She piqués, fouettés, and chainés across the studio, spinning as she floats her arms around gracefully to the music.

Her step-over pirouettes are less-than-perfect, and her leaps could be higher, but, for not practicing with a coach for two years or so, she's not bad.

But that's not the point. She's supposed to be trying to jog her memory.

All she managing to do, though, is see how a supposed fourteen years of dancing six hours every day has slowly washed down the drain. Based on the recital videos Edward dug up of her from around the internet a while back, she used to be a lot better.

She breaks into more of a pop routine, dancing along to the Zara Larsson song that's playing. She's still great at freestyling.

The intercom of the gym booms, announcing that it will be closing soon.

Just when she was starting to have fun.

Alice stops and picks up her things from the floor, putting her black half-zip and sneakers back on. She takes a sip from her water bottle and checks her phone.

Zero new messages.

She wonders for a moment if she should have given Jasper her phone number. It might have been a good idea.

Alice shrugs it off and decides that she's probably going to see him again soon anyway, so it doesn't much matter.

She skips down the stairs, out the front lobby, and into the dark parking lot. There aren't many other students out at the gym tonight. She hurries back to the Tesla, key fob in hand.

Just as she's about to unlock the doors, her phone rings.

She gets a vision before she can check it. Or a lack of vision, rather.

She can't see and she can't move.

She tries to scream, but it comes out muffled.

Slow, heavy footsteps come towards her. "That's it. That looks great...Say hi for the camera. Are you scared yet?"

The parking lot and car come back into focus. She sprints for the door, gets in, and locks herself inside.

She wonders what that was. A shiver runs down her spine.

Alice starts the Tesla and the headlights illuminate the surrounding area. She doesn't see anyone else around.

Her phone shows one missed call from an unknown number.

The Bluetooth kicks back on and she jumps when the music suddenly starts back up.

Shifting the car into drive, she quickly pulls away from campus and heads home. She isn't sure what she just saw, but she doesn't want to stick around to find out.