Spring 2005
On a damp, wet morning in March, the fog dissipated to reveal an equally gray sky. The closest thing to a morning sunrise came from the yellow cabinets in the kitchen. The air smelled of buttery pancakes and sugary maple syrup. A paltry attempt to appease her. Especially since they were made from a box mix and not her own beloved recipe. It was a day Bella spent all her life wishing would never come: her first day as a student attending Forks High School.
It wasn't like she left anything back in Phoenix. No one was missing her or left floundering in her absence. Bella had always been quiet, finding comfort in fictional worlds and comradery with fictional characters. She would do the same in Forks. Keep her nose in a book, mind her own business. Affect nothing and allow nothing to affect her. Then, she would be on her way to college, somewhere sunny, warm, and Southern.
Her father, Charlie, left the plate of pancakes for her on the counter under a bowl to keep warm. He unthinkingly drenched them in syrup and butter. So, what remained was a wet, mushy mess. Picking through the stack with a fork, Bella knew she wouldn't have eaten them, anyway. One side was burnt, the other as deathly pale as her skin.
It's nice that Charlie tried, Bella told herself. He must have remembered her mother made pancakes for Bella on her first day of school. A tradition that hadn't been executed since Bella was in elementary school, but spoken of every year, nonetheless. It was a good gesture, even if he didn't put forth to energy to truly try. It should be enough for her. Her mother's half-baked attempts at affection used to be enough.
Until Bella experienced how it felt to be truly cared for, for a few short weeks.
With a sigh, Bella dumped the pancakes into the trash, placed a paper towel over them so Charlie wouldn't see the uneaten remains, and left the kitchen with an old granola bar in hand.
She'd been to the school before. To attend local craft fairs in the gym as the weather never held off long enough to host them outside and to participate in summer camps when she was small enough to attend. Likewise, she knew most of the students. That was, they knew her. The summers Bella spent in Forks with her father, she was a commodity. The shiny, new toy—kids sought her out so they could turn around and tell their friends about it, but they never truly intended to befriend her.
When Bella stepped into her first class of the day, she expected the wide-eyed stares of the girls, ravenous for fresh gossip. She grew leery when she noticed the hunger in the eyes of their male counterparts. Bella understood that her appearance matched her namesake, turning heads in her direction. She also understood that her unassuming personality and slow, dry humor turned all heads right back around.
She worried that her shiny toy status wouldn't turn their heads back fast enough.
The opportunity to pull out her paperback never arose. There was always someone waiting eagerly to lead her to her next class, always someone to her right and to her left chatting over her, including her just enough that it would be rude to read. Bella forgot all the names almost immediately. Tyler was the exception—though not for a favorable reason. She would never forget the name Tyler, because he had the audacity to slip his arm around her shoulders, kiss her cheek, and announce, "Dibs!" to the cafeteria.
It was laughed off as a joke, but the bright red blush of embarrassment did not fade for the duration of the meal. Bella sat towards the end of the long table, wedging herself between a girl with cat-eyed glasses and a boy with too much hair. They were the only two to smile politely, but not ogle. Bella thought their presence would be the closest to familiarity she would find.
It wasn't like Bella had no friends back in Phoenix. This school was large enough that there were a handful of shy, awkward girls such as herself. They would sit together at lunch, reading or working on homework. Mostly in silence. They would warn each other about tests or gym class and—if they were feeling brave enough—discuss grades.
Bella fished through her backpack for a pair of headphones. Once she found them wedged between the pages of a paperback, she realized everyone at the table was staring at her.
"What?" she croaked. She took a sip of lemonade.
"What made you decide to move here, Bella?" one of the girls asked. Bella recognized her curly hair and light brown eyes, but she couldn't quite place the name.
"Yeah," another swept her fingers through her short, blonde hair. "Who would start at a new school for the last four months of senior year?"
"Um," Bella passed the bottle of lemonade between her hands. There wasn't much of a story to tell. "My mom remarried."
The curious faces around her softened with sympathy.
"He's a creeper?" one of the girls guessed.
"No."
"He's a jerk," another supplied.
"No."
"He's too hot?" a third asked, her tone judgmental.
"No!"
Renee had a Valentine's Day wedding at an absurd tropical resort. After, she and Phil planned to spend several months on their honeymoon. Renee broke the lease at their house because it didn't make sense for her to spend money on a house she wasn't even in. Apparently, it didn't matter that Bella would be there. And when that blatant fact was brought up, Bella was reminded that she could live with her father in Forks. Despite Bella's pleas and protests, she was shipped off to Forks while Renee backpacked across Europe with her new husband.
A trip that was once meant for Bella and Renee once Bella graduated.
However, that was all too embarrassing to share.
Thankfully, Bella didn't need to come up with an excuse. Simultaneously, the three girls whirled in the same direction, as if a whistle had been blown that Bella could not hear. The one in the middle with curly hair sucked a sharp breath through her nose. The girl with short blonde hair whispered something in her ear, which made them erupt into a fit of giggles.
"What is it?" Bella asked the girl with glasses. She was the only one who remained unphased to whatever caused the disruption.
She offered Bella a nervous smile. "The other new kid."
"He's hardly new, Ang," another boy sniffed, "He's been here since September."
Angela shrugged. "New enough."
"Steer clear of that guy, Bella," the boy with too much hair warned in a low voice. "He's nothing but trouble."
Bella would not have a hard time doing that. She barely wanted to be in Tyler's overbearing presence, despite his cute smile and good humor. Whoever this saturnine bad-boy brooding around the school was, it would be easy for Bella to ignore him.
The girls were still whispering and giggling when Bella stood to throw away the remains of her half-eaten lunch. She couldn't help but peek, simply to know who exactly to avoid. She couldn't avoid him if she didn't know what he looked like. The boy in question stood outside, leaning against a wall under the awning. Sheets of rain fell inches away from his long, lean body. From this distance, Bella could barely make out a clean-cut jaw, strong nose, and a mess of bronze hair.
He wore no coat. His long-sleeved shirt fit his chest and muscles perfectly, as if it were tailored to sheath his body. The sleeves were pushed up to reveal his forearms.
A plume of cigarette smoke puffed out into the air around him. Bella recoiled.
The bell rang, startling Bella out of her own skin. Bodies rushed around her, but Bella stood motionless, oddly transfixed. The boy's movements were deliberately slow as he snuffed out his cigarette and pulled a worn paperback from his back pocket. He pushed the door open with his shoulder, moving with too much grace for someone of his size. From across the room, he caught her staring. Bella's breath caught in her throat.
His eyes widened. Then dulled, disinterested with what they landed on.
The same golden eyes that haunted Bella's dreams every night since she'd seen them last summer.
Summer 2004
The chime of the door replaced the howl of wind as Bella slipped inside. Safe from the sudden downpour, she immediately crashed into a wire rack. Cassettes scattered over the wood floor.
"Sorry!" she called out into the shop. She fell to her knees, senselessly shoving cassettes back onto the rack. Once everything was off the floor, Bella sat back on her shins and took in her surroundings.
She was in a music shop. Around her, case after case was stuffed with records. In the middle of the space, a wrought iron staircase led to a loft, presumably stuffed with more records. Classical music drifted through the air from an unknown source. To her left, the shop expanded into a second room, lined neatly with instruments. Beside it was a closed door.
As Bella stood to see what could be inside, the door suddenly swung open. A boy with an instrument case in his hands ran through the door, calling out his gratitude for ending the session early. He didn't run into the wire rack. He neatly dodged it as he ran past, out into the rain, as if he'd run past it enough to commit the movement to memory.
Bella stared at the door for a moment longer, wondering if someone she should apologize to would step out. When no one did, Bella gave up and ventured up the stairs onto the loft. What awaited her on the second level was better than just records. Several record players were set up. Recent, updated models. Each one had a fancy pair of headphones attached. Plush, comfortable chairs sat beside each player, creating a pleasant space for someone to settle as they tested out music. In the middle of the room, a cluster of black leather couches were set up around an antique record player. Bella ran her pinky along the rich, dark wood of the antique from an arm's length, worried she'd break it if she stepped too close.
Bella settled into one of the chairs. The shop's loft was less claustrophobic than her room and less chaotic than the lobby at the inn. The air smelled like butterscotch and rich wood. Pleased, Bella took the book from her bag and began to read.
"This is a music store." The musical voice pulled Bella from her fictional world with a start.
She gasped, then blushed.
A boy stood at the top of the stairs. His wire-rimmed glasses and sweater vest seemed out of place on his handsome, chiseled face and broad chest. His head was cocked to the side, studying her. The oddest expression on his face. He looked almost mystified by her. If there was one thing Bella wasn't, it was mysterious. Even if her dull life contained any secret of interest, her open face would reveal it straight away.
"I know," she bristled. She grabbed the first record her hand touched. "I'm buying this."
Bewilderment settled comfortably into amusement. He pointed to the closest record player with his chin. "Play it."
Biting her lip, Bella did as she was told. She was grateful she had experience with record players, so she didn't have to look like a freeloader and a bumbling idiot in front of this beautiful boy. Gently, she set the needle into the proper groove of the record. Only to be met by an ear-piercing screech and a wailing guitar.
Bella cringed away from the sound.
"I love this," she choked out, unconvincingly.
The boy laughed.
"Let's get you checked out, then."
"Wonderful," Bella smiled, fully prepared to meet this boy toe-to-toe. She sauntered past the beautiful, bronze-haired boy and straight to the counter. He rang her up for one dollar, though the label on the record clearly marked it as thirty.
She studied his face as he completed the transaction. He was… truly beautiful. Like a prince from a dark fairytale. Bella pulled her attention down to the counter before he had the chance to catch her staring.
Where she saw the paperback, faced down.
"Wuthering Heights?" Her heart skipped a beat. Bella must have stepped out of the cold Alaskan summer and into a dream. There was no reality in which a handsome stranger read her favorite book.
He offered a tight smile. "Mm, well, my sister just got married again. Cathy and Heathcliff are a refreshing reminder that everlasting love isn't really that special."
"You can't say that about one of the most iconic love stories of all time."
He shrugged, nonplussed. "They're both terrible people making terrible choices all for the sake of love. If that's the price to pay for falling in love, I'm content without it."
"You can't say that about love," she said in a lower voice.
She didn't think he'd hear her above the classical music, but he said, "Romantic love isn't as vital as everyone claims. Not everything has to be the greatest love story ever told."
"Don't you want to fall in love? All-consuming. Life-altering. Like… like… the splash of milk in a cup of coffee. Or like a drop of red in white paint. Or…"
"…like an oil tankard tipped at sea," he finished for her.
Despite herself, Bella laughed. His small smile widened slightly at the sound.
"I've spent years as an odd man out among three perfectly matched couples. If they haven't convinced me, I'm afraid there's no hope." He placed the record in a brown sleeve, folded down the top, and affixed a sticker of a music note to keep it in place. "Have a good day."
Bella read countless love stories where there was seemingly no hope, yet love prevailed. Overcame impossible odds. Inspired weakness into strength. She did not believe there was no hope when it came to love. This boy could not convince her, otherwise.
"You can read here anytime you want," he said, just as she turned to leave. "I don't mind putting the loft to good use."
"Thank you," Bella said. Without breaking stride, she walked back up the spiral staircase onto the loft.