A/N: Thanks so much for your thoughts. :)

Another chapter, just to get us going. ;)

Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine.

Chapter 2 – Kryptonite

Edward

"Hey, Ed."

Another thing I'd forgotten in the lingering lull brought on by the laughter that periodically rings out:

My buddy, Emmett.

"Ed."

Concerned with the shit mood in which I recently find myself, Emmett has taken it upon himself to be my wingman slash personal clown this summer. Well, he's always been my wingman, even while I lived on the West Coast. And, to be fair, he's never been so much a clown as more a fucking funny guy who everyone can't help but like.

He took off work today to keep me company at the beach. I think he worried I'd walk into the Atlantic and keep walking – which I wouldn't. Waking up, thinking I'm dead, and possibly rejoicing is one thing; actively working toward it is another.

Still, Emmett's a great buddy, my best friend since high school. Since I arrived home in New Jersey a week ago, he's been good about not requiring me to talk too much regarding the trifecta and simply allowing me to drown in my sorrow and stew in my fury. Just like a great buddy.

Now, he's suddenly garrulous.

"Ed."

After a deep sigh to convey my annoyance with his abrupt need for attention, I mutter, "Yeah, Em?"

Emmett's voice is low and furtive. "Take a look."

I neither open my eyes nor move, hoping more than believing that if I remain still, he'll leave me alone to bask in the frequent laughter that continues in the background.

"Ed." Emmett shakes my shoulder.

The laughter suddenly stops…, and as the seconds tick by, it doesn't resume.

Just like that, it's as if a spell's been broken. It's as if a kaleidoscope has been shaken after having already achieved a perfect picture.

"Ed, man, take a look."

Needless to say, being shaken out of the most chill mood I've been in, in ages – all to take a look at some unknown entity – pisses me off. This is why when I go ahead and remove Alice's cataclysmic book from where it's splayed on my stomach, set it aside over the sand, and sit up, I'm already predisposed against whatever inanity Emmett wants to show me.

Mimicking Emmett, I bend up my legs and spread them wide, shoving my toes into the hot sand. Then, grimacing at the burn, I rest my forearms on my kneecaps and sigh.

"All right, what is it?"

"Take a look at that," Emmett murmurs with more than a hint of awe.

Removing my dark shades, I follow his gaze. A few feet in front and just to the side of us, a large, multi-colored beach umbrella is staked into the sand. The sun's current position rounds the umbrella's shadow, its flaps waving gingerly in the shore's breeze. On either side of the umbrella pole are two beach chairs, aluminum and canvas, with built-in mesh drink holders in the armrests. Both chairs hold Hydro Flasks on their armrests. Each chair also contains what, from this angle, are the back of two heads – one blond, one brunette.

"This is what you wanted me to look at?"

Emmett grins. "I've been watching them while you dozed."

"That confession, if spoken any louder, doesn't have the potential to earn you a punch in the face – at the very least," I smirk.

"What?" he asks as if he fails to see the problem with beachside eavesdropping. Then he chuckles and adds with a shameless shrug, "They're interesting."

I nod and reposition my shades. "Enjoy." When I lie back down, he flicks me with his fingers.

"Em, fuck off." Angling my face back up to the sun, I send up a vague prayer to a vague deity for the return of that anything-but-vague laughter.

"They're best friends. And they're middle school teachers. One teaches math, the other history."

"Mm."

"They're off for the summer."

"Mm."

"They've rented one of the small bungalows for the season, the ones about a mile off the beach that are about a tenth the size of your parents' shoreline mansion," he chuckles.

"Mm."

"They saved up all year for it. I'm proud of them," he muses.

"Go ahead and share that with them. I'm sure they'll have plenty of their own thoughts to share, mainly on your patriarchal sense of pride in two unknown women's accomplishments."

"And they want to go on vacation somewhere before the summer ends. They're busy! But they can't decide where to go. For the past ten minutes, the blond has been touting the pros of visiting Paris, London, or Lisbon, but the brunette thinks those are all too overhyped."

I find myself muttering an agreement. "The brunette's right. They are."

"The brunette wants to venture off the beaten path, but…I don't think I agree with that idea."

When I crack open an eye, I find Emmett shaking his head, his brow furrowed as if he's given the women's travel dilemma some serious pondering while I dozed.

"I kinda agree with the blond," he stage-whispers.

"Because she's blond."

He chuckles under his breath. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I shut both eyes again. "It means you favor blonds. You agree with them. They easily wrap you around their blond strands of hair. They always have."

"And you favor the red-heads," he bellows teasingly. "They've always been your weakness. Your kryptonite!"

"First, SHH. The entire Jersey Shore doesn't need to know…that," I hiss. "Second, don't remind me."

All the while, an image of Tanya flashes through my mind. 'Edward, this relationship isn't working out for me anymore…'

Emmett must see something in my expression because he backtracks quickly and foregoes his usual follow-up joke.

"Sorry, sorry."

Keeping my eyes shut, I wave it off, though there goes any possibility of a resumption to a better mood.

"Ed, come on, man. Spy on these girls with me!"

"Emmett," I sigh, "my fear here is that your new beach-time pastime is gonna get us thrown in jail, and I've got enough-"

The laughter rings out.

My eyes pop open, and my breath hitches.

When I sit up, I'm offered a peripheral view of Emmett grinning at me, mistaking the reason for my sudden attention.

"I knew you couldn't pass up my brand of fun."

He says more, but his voice is now a low hum. That melody continues wafting in the air, buoyed along by sea droplets. I follow it like a siren's call, a few feet ahead and to the right of me – to the two women.

At that moment, one of the heads turns sideways toward her friend. I catch the profile view of pink lips, a mouth spread wide in amusement before the head tilts upward. Long, dark hair ripples and billows like the sea surf. And then, her laughter crashes and crests against me.

A/N: Thoughts?

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