"Hey, Em, we're gonna head out," Riley says, motioning to the door. He's with the redheaded girl they met at the last bar—some grad student from their school.
"Later!" Emmett waves and lines up his pool cue. He knocks the striped five-ball into a pocket. Two more to go.
The Capitol Hill bar is starting to wind down for the night. They announced final call a while ago, and Raoul already left. It's just him, Diego, and Diego's girlfriend now. Emmett's seen her a few times already, but she doesn't talk. He name is Tree or something.
Not every weekend has a big turnout. Especially during winter quarter.
Diego sinks the solid-colored two-ball into the corner pocket. "Ready to lose?"
"Yeah, good luck landing that," Emmett taunts back. It isn't a very easy shot.
Miraculously, though, Diego bounces the 8-ball off the sidewall and into the adjacent pocket, securing his victory. Emmett sighs in defeat.
"Good game," Diego says with a grin.
"Yeah, yeah, you lucked out tonight. Normally I'm way better."
"Sure, you are. And normally I'm a polka-dotted zebra."
Emmett finishes his drink and checks his phone to see if Edward has sent him anything yet. He hasn't.
His stomach growls. He could use some late-night breakfast food. "Hey, do you wanna go get pancakes?"
Diego shakes his head. "I'm gonna pass. I think Bree probably wants me to get her back home, and I have work in the morning."
Bree—not Tree—looks up from her spot in the corner where she's sitting reading a book. Her long, dark hair falls over most of her face. She doesn't seem that into the party scene, but she tags along anyway for some reason.
"Alright, fair enough." Emmett shrugs. "I'll see you on Monday then."
"Yeah, see ya!"
Regardless of if his friends want to join him or not, Emmett wants food. It's really freaking weird, though, that no one else is around on a Saturday night at three. Not even the guys with nothing better to do that no one really likes. Like Fred.
Emmett gets to the 24-hour pancake house a short walk away and orders waffles and a coffee. He sits near the windows and taps through some Instagram Stories while he waits.
Rosalie still isn't back from New York, but she should be at the airport by now. He dials her number with a yawn.
"Hey. We're boarding, so I can't talk long," she says as soon as she picks up.
"No worries. How'd the meetings and stuff go?"
There's a long pause. "Fine. Are you out drinking?"
"Yeah, I went to Cap Hill with the guys. They ditched because they have to work or sleep or whatever, so I'm getting breakfast by myself." He yawns again. "Edward's still not replying to my texts. I'm so bored."
"Did you ask Jasper to go with?"
"Yes, and he gave me some dumb excuse about needing to stay in more and working on a better sleep schedule because blah blah Alice blah," Emmett says with an eye roll.
"Huh. Well, that's good, I guess."
"But it means no one wants to hang out! When did everyone get so boring?" he complains.
"It'll only gets worse the older we get. I have to go. They're closing the door."
He sighs. "Okay, bye. Have a safe flight."
"Thanks. Don't stay out too late."
"Yeah, sure," he grumbles back.
Rosalie hangs up and Emmett's waffles arrive looking deliciously crisp and fluffy.
"Can I get you anything else?" the waiter asks.
"Yeah, friends that don't suck would be nice."
"Um...haha..."
Emmett pours a generous amount of syrup over his waffles and takes a bite. "Seriously, this must be what people talk about when they mention senior year being a total shit show. If graduation and the impending start of professional life does this to people, I don't even want to see what it'll be like once they start getting married."
"Yeah, I feel you. So, you're all good here?"
"No, wait, how old are you?"
"Eighteen..."
Emmett sighs. "It's only a matter of time, man. Enjoy the fun while it lasts. Pretty soon we're all gonna be sitting on the sidelines at little league games and gossiping about parent-teacher association drama while getting day drunk off crappy canned wine."
The waiter gives him a judgey look. "You're in here literally every Saturday night."
"Not alone! Everyone's busy now. I'd ask you if you wanna hang, but you're clearly working, and you seem like a nerd. I already have enough nerd friends."
"I'm going to go now," the waiter says, backing away.
"For the record, this is why I think you're a nerd!" Emmett shouts after him. He stabs at his food and shoves an entire waffle into his mouth grumpily.
His teammates—the group of friends he's had for the past four years—used to always stay out partying until morning every weekend. When they didn't, Emmett had Edward, who would be up playing music, reading, or hosting his podcast. And then, of course, he had his lady friends. Friends with benefits. He doesn't talk to them anymore since he has a girlfriend now.
As it stands, he's never had a weekend his entire time in undergrad where he's lacked company when he wanted it. They'd had to cut things short a few times because he got too drunk too fast, but that's different.
He's not ready for the party to end.
...
Alice digs through her closet, trying to find an outfit she doesn't hate, tossing things to the ground as she tries them on.
She's worn just about everything she has for winter at least once now, and it's not warm enough to break out spring styles.
Grabbing a grey wool skirt set she purchased two weeks ago, she holds it up against her body and frowns. It's too serious. She drops it to the ground and tries the light purple chiffon blouse she's worn a few times already. The color is good, but she decides against it.
She sighs and rubs her temples. Right when she's about to curse herself for not having an adequate outfit prepared for today, she remembers the Reformation dress she shoved into the back of her closet behind her fur coats. A cute black mini dress with mustard yellow flowers. She can wear it with her Dior pumps.
As she finishes getting ready, she once again sees the vision that's been popping up in her head with varying degrees of clarity over the past two weeks.
The first time she saw it, she was quite surprised. It's not worrisome or ominous, but it's different than the light, whimsical sort of things she previously saw featuring Jasper.
It's only ever a few brief moments.
They're in her room. On her bed. Kissing. Touching. Skin against skin.
"Alice..." he murmurs into her ear.
And then nothing.
She's intrigued, to say the least. She feels strange. Her stomach is doing flips at the thought of what could happen—no, what will happen.
Maybe she should put up some calendars around her room so she can see a date.
Although their surroundings are pretty hazy, she's fully certain that she spotted her blush-toned, percale bedspread and light grey, tufted headboard in the background.
It could be this weekend. Or next. He hasn't stayed over in a while, but she could invite him again. Does she need to ask him about it? How does she even initiate something like that? Will he ask? Is he waiting for her to bring it up?
Her heart feels like it's beating double time.
Alice grabs one of her Miu Miu shoulder bags and her keys and heads downstairs to the garage. She should leave soon if she wants to be on time.
Carlisle's down in the kitchen when she passes through.
"Morning!" she says cheerfully.
"Good morning. Where are you off to?" he asks tiredly. He worked last night and must have just gotten home.
"I'm meeting Jasper and his friends downtown. Can I borrow your car? I'll be back in a few hours."
"Go ahead. I'll be sleeping."
"Have you heard from Edward yet?" she asks hopefully, her brows raising the tiniest bit.
"Not since he texted me that he got to Volterra. I'm sure he's fine. He just needs some time."
Alice scrunches her nose in irritation. "I don't think he's coming back."
It's a gut feeling at best and a guess at worst, but she can't seem to feel confident about him returning to Seattle. At least not in the foreseeable future.
"Of course he'll come back. He's been dead set on working downtown in his father's law firm since he was a kid," Carlisle reassures. "I'll try calling him again later."
"Okay. I...really wish he would talk to me. I've tried apologizing a few times now. He's being super unfair."
He sighs and runs his hand through his short, cropped hair. "He'll come around eventually. I don't think he's angry with you or Jasper—"
"He doesn't even know him. He didn't even give him a chance."
"Right. Edward needs some time to reflect on his actions. He wouldn't have gone so far as to break up with Bella or fly halfway around the world over a disagreement with a friend. It's more than that."
"He's being stubborn! And rude!"
Carlisle gives her an understanding nod and yawns. "I'm going to fall asleep standing if I don't get to bed soon. I'll never get used to double shifts."
"Sorry-I'll-let-you-go-now, byeee!" she says as she runs out to the garage.
...
Edward sits at the grand piano in the practice room, his fingers brushing across the keys as he works on composing his latest piece.
His chest aches. He thought it would have ceased, or at least subsided a small amount, but he's felt constant agony since he left Bella almost a month ago.
He misses her laugh, her smile, her witty conversations, her clumsy stumblings, but most of all he misses her kind, warm presence in his life. It's something so good he doesn't deserve it.
The door to the room opens, and light from the hallway spills in. The change in lighting makes his eyes hurt as they readjust.
"Edward."
He turns to see Aro—one of Carlisle's many childhood friends and, coincidentally, the program director for the Italian arts internship he's enrolled in—standing in the doorway.
"Will you be coming to dinner?" he asks his usual smooth, careful way.
"I don't think so. I'm not hungry yet," Edward replies.
"You said that this morning as well, but it's been quite some time. None of the others have seen you leave this room all day." Aro tilts his head, a curious smile on his lips. "Do you always play piano in the dark?"
He must want a fresh face to talk to. They don't get new guests often, and he seems to think Edward's extraordinarily interesting for some reason.
"Sometimes." Edward sighs, glancing out the moonlit windows that ever-so-gently had been illuminating the space. "I have a headache."
"That's too bad. Come, I'd like you to meet two of my brightest new students. They're surely not as talented as yourself, but they're positively delightful. They're from a little town in England, and they paint quite extraordinary pieces," Aro says, inviting him in a way that gives no room for refusal.
Edward follows Aro down the hall into the elegantly decorated dining room, where a table with a dozen chairs sits surrounded by several of the other artists. Marcus and Caius, the two assistant directors of the studio, sit at the far end of the room facing the door.
"It looks as if Aro's successfully returned with Edward," Caius says boredly. "Fantastic."
"Isn't it?" Aro gleefully replies. "Edward, this is Jane and Alec, the two I was telling you about. They've been coming to study here for the past several summers, and they're finally becoming permanent fixtures in our ranks. They're twins."
A boy and a girl sit at the end of the table on either side of Aro's empty seat. They have brown hair—though the girl's is a lighter shade—and dark eyes. They look no older than fourteen or fifteen.
Edward nods in greeting. They say nothing. The boy stares blankly back at him while the girl shoots him an unpleasant sneer.
"They painted the two pieces there," Aro says, pointing at the wall behind Marcus. Two large, five-foot canvases sit propped up against the beige wainscoting, both abstract design. The first is a cool-toned, pale, watery sort of painting with greens and blues swirling about. The second looks like someone threw buckets of red and black paint at it and aggressively scrubbed a brush across the surface.
Aro continues to talk about Edward to his two proteges, and Edward takes a seat at the lone empty chair a few places down from them. He doesn't pay attention to what's being served for the meal, nor does he listen to the conversation as it continues through various topics.
When his watch says that it's almost noon in Seattle, he excuses himself to go finish his reading for his Monday law class.
Edward crosses the cobblestone courtyard to the dormitory and returns to his room. His phone is still where he left it on the desk. There are some new messages since he checked it that morning.
There's a voice message from Carlisle asking how he's doing. Three are from Alice, adding to the dozen or so she sent already that he ignored. Emmett sent another Snapchat and forwarded a Grumpy Cat meme to his Instagram account, which reminds him that he still needs to deactivate his profile.
He replies to Carlisle over text, letting him know he's going to start preparing for his exam Friday and that he doesn't need to worry. Even if Carlisle would never judge him or think badly of his character, Edward wants to reassure him that he's fine. Even if he's not. He knows he doesn't need more to worry about.
Bella tried to call him a few times in the week before he blocked her number. He feels horribly guilty for it, but her pain will only be prolonged by continuing to try to stay in touch. He doesn't want her to be preoccupied with his own self-loathing or inadequacy while he tries to figure out what he's doing so wrong.
It's just as he told her: he doesn't know if their break will be a few short weeks or forever, and he doesn't want her to get her hopes up if he's not successful.
He needs to do much more thinking still. He needs to take a good, hard look at the darkness in his heart—the monster in the mirror—that renders him unable to love without compromising the happiness and wellbeing of others.
She would never understand. Bella is far too selfless, kind, and intelligent. She would never even dream of having such an effect on others.
...
"So how's the fashion business going, Alice?" Peter asks.
She smiles. "Good! I'm in the middle of sketching out my next design series for my portfolio. I mean, I don't have a full concept yet, but I'm working on it. I want to get a feature in the Henry Art Gallery," she replies enthusiastically. "Are you both in school? I don't think I've asked."
"I am. Peter graduated last spring," Charlotte answers. "I'm majoring in Early Child Education. I'll start teaching grade school next fall."
"Oh, cool!"
"And I work in accounting. It's boring, but it pays decent." Peter grins, taking a sip of his Michelada. "Jazz said you graduate next year, but it seems like you're already pretty busy with work."
Alice takes a drink of her lemon seltzer and nods. The waiter sets a plate of tacos in front of her. They look fantastic. "Yeah, I like what I do, though, so it doesn't feel like work. It's fun for me."
"That's always good. I can't say I have that passion for my job, but I am good at it. And it pays well," Peter replies.
Charlotte laughs. "Working for the weekend."
"Basically."
Alice glances out the window of the restaurant and an image of Carlisle's Tesla getting sideswiped suddenly clouds her vision. A middle-aged man in a truck is going to be too busy texting to realize he's drifted out of his lane.
"I need to move the car," she announces, interrupting the conversation's flow.
Peter looks out the window too, trying to figure out what she's seeing. "Parking patrol going to get you?"
She shakes her head and starts to stand up from the table. "Someone's going to knock off the driver's side mirror if it stays there."
"Oh no," Charlotte says with a frown.
"I'll get it," Jasper offers, motioning for Alice to sit back down. "Will it be fine just around the corner?"
"Oh, thanks! Mhm, should be."
Alice watches him go and the couple still sitting at the table give her confused looks. "I have a strong sense of intuition."
"How good are you with lottery numbers?" Peter jokes.
"I'm better at stocks."
He and Charlotte laugh. They're a cute couple. Charlotte has a kind of boho glam, easy-going type of style with her straight, blond hair and Free People-esque clothing, while Peter seems to dress more LA hypebeast casual. They compliment one another well.
Since the opportunity is here, she might as well bring up the subject of Jasper's sobriety. She's tired of working against his friends.
He's well out of earshot, but Alice finds herself lowering her voice anyway. "Hey, so...about Jasper."
The two nod eagerly and wait for her to continue.
"He kind of has a drinking problem."
"Yeah, he does," Peter says nonplussed, raising his brows for emphasis. "Is there going to be an intervention?"
"No, he's already trying to stop. I don't know if he mentioned anything yet, but I'm hoping that—as his friends—you can try to be...supportive."
"See, I told you that you shouldn't keep buying him shots!" Charlotte smacks Peter's arm.
"Okay! Yeah, fine. He mentioned it, but I didn't think he was being serious. He gets really mopey sometimes. It's hard to tell," Peter says. "But, hey, this means we have a designated driver now."
"That's your takeaway?" Charlotte quips.
"Yeah. I love him—don't get me wrong—but he was a lot more fun before the move. Even if he was an asshole sometimes."
"And you invited him to come live with us."
Peter chuckles. "Like I said, he was a lot of fun. I wasn't the one getting my ass kicked, and he never tried to steal my girlfriend. Was I just supposed to abandon him out there with no friends?"
"The perfect recipe for friendship: mutual enemies and different tastes in women," Charlotte teases sarcastically.
Alice pushes an ice cube around her glass with her straw and watches the two across from her banter lightheartedly. They've known him for a lot longer than she has, and she can tell they're only giving him crap because they're that comfortable in their friendship. Edward and Emmett do the same.
Charlotte reaches across the table towards Alice, grasping the other girl's hands for emphasis. "You like him, though? Like you're officially dating?"
Peter interjects. "Don't put her on the spot like that, Char. You'll scare her away."
"I'm not! I'm just wondering because he hasn't told us anything. He's been so sad the past year. I'm excited he found someone nice."
He gives his girlfriend a flat look before redirecting his attention to Alice. "He totally turns to goo just looking at you. We hear about you plenty."
Alice giggles. "He's sweet. I like him."
"In my five years of knowing Jazz, I've never heard anyone describe him as sweet," Peter snorts. "I'm glad you think so."
The door to the restaurant jingles and Jasper returns to the table with an apprehensive look on his face. "What did I miss?"
"Your hair just has a certain bounce to it today, so we were discussing it," Peter says cheekily. "I also told Alice all of your embarrassing stories from high school."
Jasper rolls his eyes. "It must have been quite the conversation."
"Oh, it was. I was just getting to the one where you got stuck out in Galveston without your shoes."
"Ugh, not that one. Did you tell her about the time you tried to hide Charlotte in an industrial freezer?"
"I thought I was going to die!" Charlotte squeaks.
Peter looks from Charlotte to Jasper, shaking his head resignedly."I thought we were all going to die. I'm never going to Albequerque again."
Alice beams as she listens to them talk about their haphazard adventures together, happy to have two more friends along with all the other amazing ones she's made since coming to Seattle.
