Smoky fog shrouded the dark world of my dreams. My head pounded.

It took me a long time before I mustered up the courage to throw off the warm blankets and feel the icy air brush against me. I hated the cold. It was like plunging into an icy lake and never getting out. Like my nightmare last night. I felt like I'd been screaming for hours underwater; never moving, never thinking, only feeling like I had to scream for someone to ave me.

My bones cracked as I dressed like they'd been frozen in place for years.

When I got downstairs, Charlie was gone. Frowning, I glanced at the clock. Twenty minutes to eight. Shit. Oh, shit.

Panicking, I rushed up to brush my teeth, jumped back down the stairs, swallowed a granola bar whole, dumped the rest of the cooling pot of coffee into a mug, and tried to chase it down as I burst through the door. Twelve minutes left.

A set of headlights stumbled me to a stop. Coffee sloshed over my hand, searing. I swore and licked it. Mist clung to my exposed skin, icy and numbing. My chest tightened and butterflies escaped. With my mouth stuffed with food, hair a sty, and coffee mug still in hand, I stared at the shiny silver car— and Edward.

Edward Cullen, the vampire.

Do you even hear yourself right now?

We stared.

"Good morning," he said.

He'd noticed my shaking frame and the flicker of confusion cross my face. I was sure he could put two and two together.

We both took a step back.

What do you say to a vampire? Good morning? Or 'good morrow'? Or is there some special greeting you use when you're trying not to shout, 'WHAT THE HELL, EDWARD, YOU'RE A VAMPIRE?'

"Uh. Hello."

"Do you want to ride with me today?" Edward asked. His smile faltered on my expression.

"Oh. Um." Did I? For once in my life, I'd never been so grateful to have a mouth full of granola bar to chew over while I thought. "Did Alice set this up?"

I chugged the rest of my coffee, spilled more on my hand (ouch), and set the empty mug on the concrete stoop that led to the side door.

"I think she's committed to trying to read you right." Edward pulled out a fluttering scrap of a handkerchief and offered it to me. "Here. For the spill."

A moment of stillness passed.

"R-Right." I talked while I dabbed at the coffee on my sleeve. Edward has a monogrammed handkerchief? What? "Well as far as I'm concerned, she's done a good job so far. I'm gonna be late as hell."

"Seems you've had quite the night," he said, eyeing my hair.

"Tch, yeah. Nightmares."

"Last night?"

A humorless chuckle left my lips. "Always. Cursed house, I guess."

Edward walked around the hood of the car and stood beside the passenger door. "Yes or no, Bells. Would you like a ride?"

"A-am I allowed to say no?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"You'll let me go?"

His face flickered. "Yes. Absolutely."

Neither of us moved.

Don't be a coward.

"You promise I'll get to school safely? Whatever I choose?"

"Always."

Taking a vampire at his word? God, I must be a complete— "Okay. Yeah. Sure. I'll ride with you."

That startled him, but he opened the passenger door for me, anyway. I frowned at the gesture.

"It's a cultural thing," he explained.

I glanced at the handkerchief in my hand before giving it back to him.

Edward climbed into the driver's seat and our doors slammed shut. Warm air blasted through the heaters. I still shook, clutching my backpack to my chest. Icy breath scraped against my lungs.

Through the fear and the anxiety, I cut the silence with a calm, curious voice, "Edward?"

"You're afraid," he said in a slow, low voice.

"Not really."

"I can hear your heartbeat."

I closed my eyes, breathed in. He can hear my heartbeat. Great.

"How old are you?"

Now he really knew the fate of this conversation. His face stood stony. In silence, he pulled in reverse and backed out of the driveway.

"I am nineteen." He didn't look at me, eyes trained on the back window.

"And...how long have you been nineteen?"

His lips twitched once. He stared at the road. Only after he threw the car in drive did he answer, voice soft and silken, "A while."

"So when you talk about your culture…"

"It's a little old-fashioned."

My mind whirled around the word 'old.'

"Isa—Bells," he said, stealing a glance. "If we're going to continue this conversation, I need you to tell me what I am."

"I can't."

"You have to."

"It's so, so— weird." I couldn't help a nervous giggle, but he didn't laugh.

"Try me." I glanced to read his expression. He remained resolute.

"You're not, uh— you're not human."

"I'm not."

"You're some sort of, uh, mythical creature?"

"I am."

"Are— are you some type of..." Edward flicked on the blinker but waited to make the turn. We looked at each other.

"Go on."

"I can't."

"You're almost there."

Silence overwhelmed me. "Are you a— a vampire?"

"Aha," said Edward, pulling the steering wheel. "I am."

"But maybe not a blood vampire, right? Because your eyes, they're gold, not red. And you said you don't kill humans? Am I right?" I dug out the vampire book from my backpack, waved it in my hand. "There's nothing about the gold eyes but, but I dunno."

Edward snatched the book from me, flipped through it while he drove. Frown lines faded when he broke out into a snicker. I trained my eyes on his canines. Sharp, but not protruding. "Was this really your source material?" Frowning, I nodded. "Gee. Why didn't you hand me this in Port Angeles?"

I flushed a deep red but pressed on. "Gold is good, right? Or better? Or is that some kind of unintended profiling? I probably shouldn't be generalizing, but —"

"You probably shouldn't be using subjective terms like 'good'," Edward said, almost chiding. "Would I describe myself as 'good'? No. —Here, take your propaganda." He handed me back the book, eyes back on the road. Hope dissolved in my churning stomach. I picked at the book's spine with my thumbnail.

"What does the gold mean?"

Edward exhaled. "Not that you shouldn't be any less afraid of me," he said, "but we— myself and my family— only hunt animals. That's the difference between the eyes."

"So, the red eyes?"

"Vampiristic faes that hunt on humans."

"Fae? What? You're a fae? What's a fae?"

"Umbrella term," he murmured. "All mythical creatures are faes. Vampires are faes."

All mythical creatures. All. More than one type. All of them. Oh. Good. There were more. Great.

We sat in silence while I reeled.

Red eyes. They burned into the back of my brain. I couldn't imagine Edward with carmine irises.

"The red-eyed strangers," I said. "Jake was saying at the beach about his great-grandad and the vampires that lured people into the lake."

Edward stiffened. "That is not us. We've never lured people into the lake. Our coven doesn't kill humans."

Coven. Christ. They even had terminology.

Could I believe him? Could I trust a vampire? "Is it the same? Does it taste the same? The animals and, and humans?"

"No. Human blood makes us stronger, and more animalistic. And it tastes much better, if I may be so bold. A red-eyed vampire has better senses, coordination—"

"Have you ever been the red-eyed stranger?"

A silence hung in the air that stretched into infinity. Edward took years to respond.

"Not one of the red-eyed strangers, the ones you're referring to. But a stranger. Yes."

How many have you killed? I wanted to ask. But would he even remember how many? Hundreds? Thousands?

"For a long time?"

An even longer stretch followed. "I will always be a red-eyed stranger, even if I no longer— do that."

"But you've been golden eyes for a while?"

"Much longer than I've had red ones."

My throat constricted. I tried to keep breathing as evenly as possible. He could hear how my heart pounded. "And. so. Red eyes are stronger, so what do golden eyes do?"

Edward shrugged. "We have more mental clarity, I suppose. We're controlled less by our senses and emotions. It makes integrating with humans tolerable. It allows us to live in a way that red-eyed strangers can't. But being, er, more docile, our physical abilities are weakened."

"Wow. Okay. Yeah."

Forks High came into view and he swerved into the lot, hitting the knot of traffic from the other cars rolling in from other entrances. Edward peered out the driver-side window, drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Frowned. "Kids," he muttered.

I frowned. "Hey, wait. Yeah. You're a vampire and you're going to high school?"

"Security detail. Treaty request."

"You're— what? Security? Treaty?"

The line of cars idled while some dude stumbled out of a Ford, chasing after papers while he tried clutching his backpack closed.

"Nomads— the real red-eyed strangers— will use the scent of other nomads when traveling great distances. There's a path that runs quite close to Forks High. Our allies have recently decided it would be best for us to close up the path and monitor it for visitors. And since many of us can pass for young adults, here we are."

"Yikes. Sorry to hear that."

"Oh, it's not so nightmarish. Emmett made it into a game to pass the time."

Edward swerved into the empty spot next to an apple-red convertible with a black hood. Speak of the devil, Emmett burst from the car, laughing at something Rosalie had said. While Rosalie brushed past my window without so much as a glance, Emmett scrunched down into the passenger window, waved at the both of us, and flashed a thumbs-up to Edward.

It hit me. "Oh. Suspensions!"

And Edward mused, peering out at the convertible, "Yes, there really should be, shouldn't there? Rose just finished toying with the engine; I'm sure it's next on her list."

"What? No. School suspensions. Lobster Jell-O. Is that part of the game? Is that why Alice pulled the alarm?"

Like always, Edward tried to hide a smile. "So you've put two and two together, hm?" A grin spread over my face. "If I tell you, you can't tell anyone."

"Par for the course."

Edward laughed at that and climbed out of the car. "The game is to see who can rack up as many days of suspension as possible without getting expelled. The winner gets to choose where we go next. Myself, Alice, Emmett, and Rosalie are still in contention. Jasper dropped out."

I slammed my door and hustled to walk beside him, giggling the whole way. "And so? Who's winning?"

"Who do you think?"

"Emmett?" Edward shook his head. "Wow. Really? It can't be you."

"It's not me, no."

I wanted to keep guessing—between Alice and Rosalie, my money was on Alice—but I couldn't help myself. "How many days have you been suspended?"

"Not enough; we'll leave it at that. Such a shame. I would have loved to return to Brazil. Unfortunately, I've had to abandon my streak of delinquency and devote my energy to a separate quest."

"He bought me dinner and drove me home."

Jessica's eyes narrowed. Angela slumped, disappointed. Knowing the Cullens—specifically Edward—could listen in from across the room, I tried to keep my voice low enough to be lost in the hum of lunchroom conversation. It probably made no difference. If anything, Edward could read my friends' minds.

"You could've let us know," said Jessica. "I mean what, did you, like, plan a date or something? Behind our backs?"

"No. What? I had no idea he was going to be there. It was a little freaky, to be honest."

Jessica remained unconvinced. "Like he just so happened to show up at the same bookstore an hour from Forks?"

"Jess, I'm sure Bells is telling the truth."

The hurt didn't dissipate from Jess's face. "You ignored my texts."

"She ignored my text too," Angela said. A smile pooled across her lips. "Honestly? I totally thought they were fuc—"

"'Kay, let's not finish that sentence," I said. I didn't dare look over my shoulder. "Nope. That's not —"

"Yeah, c'mon Ang, it's Chief Swan's house," Jessica snickered. "He only had time to get under her sweater."

My voice swelled over their giggles. "Thank you, ladies, good joke. It's really not like that, though."

"Maybe you should leave that judgment to the professionals," Jess said, grinning. Oh, god, please, let's not reash this "I've never had sex with a guy" conversation from Port Angeles in front of Edward, not now, not now!

"Trust me, you'd be disappointed by how platonic our conversation was."

Ang said, "Yeah, but—"

"But you guys kissed, right?"

In the face of Jess' excited question, I remained silent.

Eventually, my deep blush and eyes cast down prompted giggles from the girls.

"No, I mean, that's not— it's really not like that."

"That's okay. Not everyone does on the first date. Eric and I, I totally thought we weren't but then—"

"We weren't on a date."

Angela and Jess scoffed and rolled their eyes, respectively.

Jess smacked her lips and said, "Well, actually, you went to a fancy restaurant and then he paid for the meal and gave you a ride home, so—"

"I think what Jessica is trying to say is that, uh, don't get discouraged! It was definitely a date. Don't get it twisted. But people follow their own timeline," said Angela, shooting a look. She put a hand on my wrist. "Kiss now, kiss thirty years from now, kiss never—who cares, right?"

"Guys, this advice really isn't relevant to me. Edward and I are just friends," I said, my tone frosty on the last sentence.

"Will you see him again?" asked Angela.

"Not sure." Beat. "Up to him, I guess."

"Was he as stuck up as everyone says?" asked Jessica, smirking. Before I could reply, she said, "I knew it. You can't talk to that guy about anything."

I could picture his face, expectant for the next words out of my mouth.

"Nothing like that. Honestly. Super down-to-earth. Really nice. Easy to talk to, once you get him going. He's just, uh, reserved. Shy. I think he wants to be friends. Maybe."

"He may want to be friends, but you did go out on a date," said Angela.

"You like him though, right?" asked Jess.

I sucked in a breath.

Did I? It's not like I knew anything about him—besides the vampire thing.

But he pulled me in with every word. I'd be lying if I said I didn't like him.

"It's—I mean, I'm not—" I sighed. "It's hard to say, I guess." That felt lame. Mulling over the words, I added, "There just comes a certain point when you cross a line and realize you can't turn back. You know?"

"Your diplomacy skills are a marvel."

I slammed my books on the black counter and took a seat on the stool. Edward's posture and expression were composed, but his hands fidgeted over his notebook.

He itched to tease me. I could feel it.

"Hah hah. I don't need the play-by-play of my own conversation."

Edward grinned. "I could tell you their thoughts. If you're curious."

"I could too. It's called reading nonverbal cues and listening to what they're saying. You could read my thoughts that way too, y'know. Or you could just ask. Gasp."

"Reading them is much more entertaining. And if I had asked you, you would edit."

"That's why they're called thoughts."

"I would kill to know yours." We exchanged a look. "Figuratively."

A young woman with coiled black hair rushed into Bio, two AV guys trailing behind with a TV on a push cart. For a minute I waited, hoping maybe Mr. Banner would start the lesson quickly so I wouldn't have to answer. But he didn't show.

So I murmured, as the class settled, "I think...you're a good person. And I'm happy that we've at least settled on being civil. But I think you're coming around. To being actual friends."

Edward rolled his eyes. "Editing."

"Doesn't mean it's not true."

Blue light filled the room. Static clung and crackled to the TV screen. Banner's replacement began his lecture.

"There's a sub today?" I murmured. When I caught Edward's eyes, he quickly avoided mine. "Edward? Where's Mr. Banner?"

"Perhaps he decided teaching wasn't his vocation after all."

My blood froze.

"What happened to him?"

"Nothing he didn't deserve. Much less than he deserved, to be quite frank."

"Edward," I hissed.

He obnoxiously scraped his chair across the floor to set it over by mine, turning the heads of everyone in class. I ducked my head in embarrassment. He chuckled, now sitting inches from me. Our arms were close to touching.

If I grabbed his hand right now, would it be freezing cold? Not that I would want to. But if I did...?

Thank god Edward couldn't read my thoughts.

"I didn't kill him," he breathed to me. "If that's what you're thinking."

The lights cut out; the TV's static fizzled into film. Electricity hummed between us, as if charged particles got sucked into our gravitational pull and swelled. I could feel it, some strange pull.

I tried not being weird. Focused on the movie. Took notes. Didn't look at my arm, which was dangerously close to Edward's relaxed hand.

A hand that killed. A hand that would kill me, too. Why not? What stopped him? What stopped him from killing everyone in the room?

"I don't know what to think," I murmured.

Halfway through the movie, he slid a note card towards me. On the back, in sweeping, freshly-inked cursive: Inappropriate conduct necessitated swift and decisive action.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? I frowned and looked to Edward's measured gaze for answers. He gave me nothing.

I wrote my reply. Do you mean his conduct? Or yours?

He leaned in and breathed, so low that I had to decipher his words from the pop of his syllables in my ear, "I decided to step in before Humbert Humbert could pursue his Lolita."

My mouth dropped open; I closed it so fast that my molars clicked. The Nabokov reference turned my stomach. "Banner? What?" Pause. "Underage girls?" Edward arched a brow and my eyes widened. "Who? What? How did you—"

He waved me away, lips twisting downward.

With the videotape on a lecture I had already heard, chewing over divulged secrets that made me feel a little sick, I got up and I left. I took my stuff and left. Maybe Banner's replacement wouldn't tell him. She didn't say anything as I walked out. But it wouldn't matter if she did. I had to bolt. I had to get out of there.

Banner had looked at me. He had looked at other girls, too; we all saw, we all knew. We did nothing. But he did. Why?

Edward didn't follow me. Which was good. Or bad. Who knew. God, that guy had way too many secrets.

In the safety of the computer lab, I plopped down in a chair and sighed, resting my head on my hands and rubbing my eyes. Now that I was out of class, the electricity had dissipated, the pull towards Edward released.

But I guess I couldn't escape them forever, those Cullens.

I saw the pointed alligator-print heels first when she pulled up and sunk into a squeaking plastic chair. Designer, no doubt. But when I looked up, Alice, not Rosalie, stared back, large cider eyes sympathetic.

And she said, "Bells. Hey. You okay?"

I shook my head but said, "Everything'll be fine. Thanks." And when I caught her sad, off-kilter smile, I said, "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I, actually, wanted to apologize," she said. I looked at her, quizzical. "No, really, I should. I made a mistake. I've made a lot of mistakes, actually. And I should've never messed around with your fate."

The weirdness never stopped. I leaned back in my chair. "It's okay. If you hadn't, I'd be dead."

"Yeah. About that." Alice paused. Her finger trailed the length of a keyboard that sat next to us, fluttered, fell away. "I really want to make sure you're okay. Since I was the one who told you our secret, I feel it's my responsibility to—"

"But you didn't," I told her. "Edward did."

Alice's lips flicked into a sad smile, fingers pattered the space above her knees. "He did. Technically. To save my skin. And I, I really, I mean truly, owe him the world for that. It wasn't his responsibility. He and Rosalie didn't even want to—" Her tongue froze at the edge of her two front teeth. "Well. What's done is done. But he's protecting me, you know, since I was the one who initially exposed you to all this. To us. Now he'll be taking the fall if— something happens." Our eyes locked.

"I won't tell," I whispered to her, heart sinking. "If that's what you mean. I won't. Ever."

"I know," she said. Then her smile flickered. "Well. Not for sure. That's what's frustrating about this. I have this overwhelming sense that you and I are—I don't know. Linked? Your future is entangled with Edward and our family. It has been for several weeks now. My visions of you are strong—and with my particular talents, a strong vision is a good sign that my prediction will be right. Except with you, they're wrong." Alice frowned, brow crinkled, index finger tapping on the edge of the desks. She huffed. "I let it get the better of me. And I'm sorry." Alice smirked to herself, then said, "Edward was right. I do get cocky."

"You seem pretty humble to me."

"You're a treasure. No, I'll admit, you've been quite humbling for me. And Edward, for that matter. You know, I've seen flickers of you in my head before, and I. Well, if the future says anything, it's that I'd be remiss if I didn't try to be your best friend. But. Things have been a little volatile lately. As I'm sure you've seen. And since the cat's out of the bag, you should know—" Alice lowered her voice while a student passed. We eyed him and he pretended not to notice. "Seattle has been—sort of a hotspot for us. And I'm not sure it'd be in your best interest to go alone. And I'd love to be friends. So. I'm hoping I could join you on your little jaunt on Saturday? Please? I had a vision a few weeks ago—you're still going, right?"

All of this sunk into my skin slowly. The danger. The fact that Edward was only getting close to me to take the responsibility off of Alice. Come to think of it, he had probably invited me to Seattle the other week at her behest.

But her warmth compelled me to say, "Yes." Maybe it would be days, weeks, months until I realized what the consequences of her actions would be. But she did feel like a friend. Like a sister. Inexplicably. "I'd love to go with you."

And how could I help but love her when her reaction to my acceptance was pattering her feet and squealing in excitement? "Oh. This is going to be great. Okay. I have this vision of a dress you're going to love . It's at Bloomingdale's. Are you okay leaving by nine? How do you feel about Thai food? Can I drive?"

I couldn't help a giggle. "Cool, I'll tell Charlie the trip's back on. That's a Yes to everything but a No on the driving. The Thing comes with. I'm trying to make a point."

"The Thing?"

"That's its name."

Alice squealed. "I love it. I love you. I love that name. Oh, look at us! At least one of my visions came true. Isn't that great?"