Death to the Non-Believer

Chapter 3

It only took a moment – the briefest flash of bright copper – to know whose table my gaze had stumbled upon. They hadn't spotted me yet, or rather, he hadn't. I stared, allowing my unnoticed eye to wander over the strange quintet. The book (or at least what I'd read of it so far) did them no justice: I had pictured them as wiry, tired, sickly-pale, but what I saw sitting just yards away were veritable gods. Their skin wasn't just pale, anemic as it had sounded in text, it was pure and shining, as if my own white skin was a cheap, tarnished imitation. Only now could I understand what Bella had meant by 'dazzling', if even that was even a strong enough description.

Rosalie stood out the most of her 'siblings', exuding an aura of seduction that drew the eyes of those who passed her like flies to honey. Her hair was not just some flat blonde like what Meyer described, but sun-spun golden locks that curled as if they had been precisely carved into place by a master craftsman, her bloodless lips somehow a perfect rosy red in a flawless face. Only her dark eyes seemed out of place in the still faultless perfection of her beauty. I wondered what color they had been when she was alive as she took the hand of the burly figure beside her. Surely this was Emmet? I grinned: he really was a bear. He was taller, broader, generally more massive than I'd thought he would be, as if my eyes could feel the weight of all his muscle from across the room. His dark brown hair was cut short, framing his ever-beaming face. He had a funny little nose that I hadn't expected, almost too delicate for someone of his sheer physical presence. Though his eyes were the same color as Rosalie's, they seemed inviting, warm, where hers had felt distant – and probably condescending, I thought. Jasper, too, was a surprise. His hair was cute, a kind of lightly curled dirty blonde, as if he could grow it out and look like Boticelli's Venus. His face, his entire body was stern and taught, leaking tension even with his hands at his sides and his eyes fixed firmly on his feet. Alice sat beside him. Only she was exactly as I had imagined her: delicate, with dark hair, and something about the way she carried herself that made it seem like she was dancing even though she sat totally still. To her left sat the last member of their little group. When my eyes fell on him, I found him already staring at me. I held his gaze – it was my personal policy not to look away when you met someone's eyes, because it always made me feel like I'd been caught doing something wrong – but why was he…

I re-entered the world around me and realized that Jessica was already well into her dish to Bella on the Cullens; no doubt she had alerted him somehow, but was it her thoughts he had heard? Or was it his heightened sense of hearing that had caught his name on her lips? I couldn't remember. Could he tune them out, or focus in on one thinker, or one area? Or was it just a constant cacophonous assault? I was beginning to wish I'd paid more attention or at least read a little more of the book as Jessica chattered on beside me. "That's Rosalie and Emmet, and Jasper and Alice, and Edward." My brain was finally tuning in to what Jessica was saying. "They're siblings."

"Siblings?" I found myself asking, though I was already well aware of their unique living situation. I stabbed a forkful of pasta – it had started to get cold while I'd been sucked into my Cullen viewing.

"Yeah. It's a total scandal, too, because they're all together!" Jessica seemed to become more and more intoxicated with each word, leaning in ever closer, waiting for my eyes to fly wide with satisfactory indignation.

"Oh." I said flatly, still focused on my food. Her anxious face immediately fell in disappointment. I looked up from my tray to find him still staring unabashed. "Who's the one with the auburn hair?" I asked, not moving my gaze from the frustrated Cullen. I already knew the answer.

"Burn?" Jessica asked. He closed his eyes as she spoke, no doubt trying to focus in on the sound of my thoughts. I wondered: did thoughts sound like the voices of the thinker, or did all the thoughts come to him in his own mental voice, as if he were reading to himself? "What burn?"

I made a face. Small town, small vocabulary. "Reddish-brown," I amended, looking up at Jessica with a little distain. "Which one is the guy with the reddish-brown hair?" He was in my peripheral vision, so I couldn't be sure, but I thought I saw our subject chuckle.

"That's Edward. He's gorgeous, of course," – for once I had to agree – "but don't waste your time. He doesn't date. Apparently none of the girls here are good-looking enough for him." She sniffed and finally granted me some silence while she chewed her sandwich indignantly and glared at the Cullen table. She was so bitter it was leaving a bad taste in my mouth; but considering that – from what I could tell – Edward ended up with Bella, the one girl not from Forks, I was inclined to agree with Jessica.

But now Bella was me, or I was Bella, so did that mean…

How close to the story would the plot stay without the real Bella? Would Edward still fall for...? Ha. I was certainly never going to fall for a protagonist with as much character depth as a parking lot puddle, no matter how gorgeous or immortal he was. Come to think of it, was my mind even unreadable to him, if I weren't the real Bel-

I struggled to hide my moment of panic at the horrible realization that Edward might, in fact, be able to hear every single word of what I thought, of what I'd been thinking since the minute I dropped into Forks. After all, the only mind he couldn't listen in on was Bella's, and I wasn't Bella – not really. How would I explain away everything that had been running through my head in just the past few minutes? And if he found out that I already knew for certain that they were vampires, they would surely-

I looked up again to find Edward still staring, flummoxed, clearly growing upset, and I heaved a sigh of relief. Apparently I was Bella enough for that aspect of the story's purpose. My confidence renewed, I met his heated amber gaze with my own level one, locked for several silent moments... and then suddenly did something that the real Bella would never have done: I smiled at him. He jerked back as if I had slapped him. I knew exactly what caused that look of consternation - quickly replaced by shock – which spread across his features, and giggled to myself at the tumult that must be rolling over his usually tedious thoughts.

For the first time in his unnatural life, Edward Cullen actually wanted to hear a human's thoughts, and could not. The irony of it was too delicious. If he weren't so beautiful, I might have even pitied him. But beautiful he was. My smile faded as he continued to stare at me, flabbergasted. I let my eyes roam over his features, the soft curve of his lip, the straight line of his nose, the smoothness of his high cheekbones, his furrowed brow, and those deep, shark-like predatory eyes that grew more consumed with me with every passing heartbeat. I felt my throat tighten in spite of myself.

No, Edward Cullen was not at all what I had expected.

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A.N.: Sorry this was such a quickie. It's short because I'm in the middle of the next chapter, and I'm not sure where I'm going to break that up.

Gosh, I haven't updated this in like... months and months. Sorry. I transferred to University a while back, and I've been swamped with that. In a good way :) In any case, forgive any spelling mistakes/grammar errors/random bits that obviously don't go in the story, if you come across them. I basically wrote and re-did 6000+ words in a day. LOL.

On a separate note, does anyone have a copy of Twilight they can send me (preferably PDF)? I don't have one anymore... OTL