A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts! I'm really enjoying hearing from you guys again after so long! And I'm loving all the theories you're all forming. Can't wait to hear all your further thoughts as this story picks up speed!

I'm in California today, so it's still early morning hours for me instead of past noon if I were back home. The youngest child completed her first year of college, and we came to help her pack up and come home for the summer. I remember writing The Cullen Legacy with my youngest running around in the background, yelling out, 'Say it! Out loud! Vampuy-ah!' (Which is where I got Maddie's little speech impediments from, for those who've read TCL (NOT TLC, lol!). Anyway, she just finished her freshman year of college. They're all so grown now.

But, back to this story. ;)

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


Chapter 3 – Thursday Evening Interruption


Sometimes, in the foggy soup that is a rainy evening spent in a semi-drab routine, a bright light seeps through. Like headlights, the gilded halo barrels forward and punctures the gray mist. Like the tumbling embers of bursting fireworks, this sudden moment of spearing luminescence sheds its blazing light on everything within its sphere. Yet, the full fallout may not be absorbed for miles…

…or for years to come.

At one point or another, everyone undergoes moments of quiet reflection. Of introspection. Perhaps, at first, the seemingly fleeting starbursts will elude recollection. But at some moment, whether with a casual beer in hand or while staring at the ceiling after another failed relationship or while running helter-skelter down unfamiliar city streets, we'll ignore our twists and turns in favor of examining the twists and turns in the roads of our lives. We'll retrace our steps, tick off the various dashes in our timeline, and come across this dash, this turn, this step. And perhaps, one day, we'll be ready to admit that, regrets or not, this – whatever this was – was one of the most meaningful and consequential events we ever experienced, for better or worse.

Of course, that's rarely how monumental moments cushioned by routine are perceived at the time of occurrence.

For me, my monumental moment came not long after I turned nineteen, framed as a Thursday evening interruption.

OOOOO

Her crown of curls and strings and drums
His mind it strums, it strums a song for her
And her eyes
Can't forget her eyes

Her eyes a coffee blur
In the rain they're the refrain
Her eyes, her eyes, her eyes

And his blood its warm, his heart it sighs
It's rainin' out but all he sees are her eyes

His blood it sings, his heart it flies
It's rainin', still all he sees are her eyes

Her eyes, her eyes, her eyes
It's rainin'
All he sees are her eyes

Her eyes, her eyes, her eyes
It's rainin'
All he sees are her eyes

"Her Eyes"
Music and Lyrics by Edward Cullen
Composition 2003
Copyright 2005 for Debut Album: No One But You

OOOOO

October 2003 – Bainbridge Island, Seattle

Classifieds – Seattle Times Online

Seeking male vocalist with voice, brains, and presence as co-vocals for female vocalist in kick-ass UDub sophomore band: Olympia. Think Avril Lavigne meets Chris Cornell. Demo and band experience required. Must be between ages 20 – 24. No doe-eyed freshmen or old farts still "finding themselves" a decade post-graduation. Also, must be GOOD at playing second to a female frontwoman. Looking for a singer, not a Romeo. Auditions Thursday night!

OOOOO

Up on our homemade stage, I grabbed the mic. When I tapped it, the feedback was ear-splitting but effective in grabbing everyone's attention despite the round of cursing it produced. I chuckled impishly.

"All right, guys. First, on behalf of Rosalie Hale, Alice Brandon, Emmett McCarty," – as I spoke each name, I gestured toward the respective band member, then pushed my thumb against my chest – "and myself, Bella Dwy- Swan, Bella Swan, and all of us otherwise known as Olympia!…" – With a dramatic pause to allow for the round of hoots and hollers, I continued with a broad grin – "I want to thank you all for coming out on a rainier than usual Thursday night. To those who missed classes to be here, go back to school, you losers!" Raucous laughter ensued, and I chuckled along. "Okay, without further ado, so you all can catch the last ferry out without a problem, we want to announce that we've chosen…"

Emmett did his drumroll thing.

"Jacob Black! Jacob Black, you're Olympia's male vocals! Let's give him a round of applause! Woo-hoo!"

"YES!"

Jacob Black bellowed and rushed to the stage. He bounced around Rocky-Balboa-style, from foot to foot, facing the other tryouts and throwing celebratory and none-too-humble air punches. Meanwhile, the dozen or so other tryouts crowding my parents' garage, plus the dozen or so friends who'd tagged along with them, expressed their thoughts and opinions on Jacob's triumph through disappointed groans and more cursing.

"What the fuck?"

"Holy shit!"

"That sucks balls!"

Jacob Black sniggered. "Tough shit, guys. Them are the breaks! I'm the best here! Yeah!" He howled like a wolf, then banged his chest like a Neanderthal in a cave defending the dead beast he'd just speared, rather than like a university sophomore in a suburban garage-turned-practice space who'd just earned a spot in an unknown college band.

The groans from the rest took a decidedly disgusted turn, and I resisted shooting Jacob Black a sideways glare. For now. Because he was new, and apparently, he didn't know the band didn't tolerate the typical, arrogant rock star behavior in vogue in the Seattle grunge scene. Out of all who tried out, Jacob Black's voice, while not as mind-blowing as he seemed to believe, meshed the best with my own - though my voice wasn't perfect either. Which was fine. I knew very well I was no Avril Lavigne. But I loved pretending I was.

Alas, Alice, Rose, Emmett, and I, as the seasoned members of Olympia – founded in the second half of our freshman year at UDub – would calmly explain to Jacob Black that we were here to perform, not to be a dickhead that could potentially turn our target audience against us. This learning curve period was what the three-month probationary period was for; to ensure he was a good fit.

I cleared my throat. "Uh…yeah. Sorry to all those who didn't make the cut, but again, thank you for trying out." I hoped to convey gratitude and apologies for the long trip and our newest member's jerky lack of humility. "Enjoy the rest of your night, and be sure not to miss us at our next gig! And be extra sure not to miss the 10:37 p.m. ferry back to the mainland tonight!" I tapped my wrist in a 'Keep track of the damn time' gesture.

This was meant to emphasize that the audition was over. Everyone was more than dismissed; at this point, they were unwelcome. It was 9:32 p.m., and my mother and my…Charlie had only okayed the use of their garage on a weeknight until ten p.m., after which Charlie wanted everyone out.

Yet despite all the complaining from ninety seconds earlier, only a handful of individuals seemed inclined to wander past the open double garage doors and brave the steady rain. Instead, while the rest of the band and I packed up and Alice spoke to Jacob off in a corner – hopefully putting the fear of God into him – the rest of the crowd loitered. Cheap beer cans and questionable herbs soon emerged from Lord knew where, the way these things tend to pop up around college students. The post-audition ran the risk of becoming an impromptu frat party.

"Oh, crap," I breathed as soon as I got a whiff.

"What is it?" Rosalie asked, sniffing the air, too. "Ahh. That."

"See, this is exactly what Charlie warned me about," I whispered sharply, "and you know he rarely puts his foot down with me. But he warned me that if he catches a whiff of that, not only am I grounded, but he won't let us use the garage to practice or to store our stuff anymore."

Rose's eyes grew wide. As precarious and strict as the situation in my parents' garage was, the rest of the band members' parents had already declined the use of their garages.

"Oh, hell no." Flinging the broom down, Rosalie slipped a finger into each end of her mouth and emitted a high-pitched whistle that put the previous mic feedback to shame.

"Holy fuck, my ears!"

"That sounds like a demon's mating call from hell!"

"I've gone deaf! I'm totally deaf! Dude, shout in that ear! I'm completely deaf!"

"Hear this, assholes! In case letting you all know you didn't get the gig and alerting you to the exact time of the next ferry out were both too subtle, to be clear, we need you all the hell out! NOW!"

More groans erupted, increasingly discontented.

"What, but the party's just getting started!"

"Yeah! No one's going nowhere now! It's raining out there!"

"We were just about to order pizza!"

The alarm bells in my head morphed into a crimson-toned Defcon Five. Everyone knows that pizza, weed, and beer are the literal trifecta for young adult misbehavior and a recipe for disaster if there ever was one.

"Pizza party! Yeah!" Jacob Black hooted.

When I glared his way, he shot me a grin.

"Jacob, that's two strikes," I said, holding up two fingers in the shape of a V, "and we haven't even made it out of the audition space yet."

"What'd I do?" Jacob Black wondered.

"As for the rest of you," Rosalie continued, "I don't know where you grew up, but it definitely wasn't Washington State if you're scared of a bit of rain. Now cap them bottles, pinch off the tips of those rolled-up Mary-Who-Anna's, and hike your asses over to that last ferry 'cause whoever misses it will be swimming to shore. Bella's dad is a retired cop, and he will start arresting asses for trespassing."

"Wait, her dad's a cop?"

"Stepdad, more or less," I semi-clarified, "and retired, and he won't really arrest-"

"Holy shit!"

"For real?"

"Get out of my way!"

Stashing their illegal substances in various backpacks, pockets, and underwear, the hive briskly disbursed, tripping over one another in their haste to swarm out. Afterward, I stalked to our newest member and folded my arms against my chest. Inclining my head, I glared upward.

"Uhm, Jacob Black, what the hell was that about?"

"Just call me Jake, pretty girl with the wild curls," he grinned, then shot me a wink.

I quirked a brow. "Jake pretty girl with the wild curls," I echoed, nodding. "It has a good ring. I'll make sure to introduce you that way in the future – if you last long enough."

He chortled. "Hey, you're hot and funny."

Emmett, who was at the opposite end of the garage, packing up his drums, sucked his teeth in irritation.

"Bella, you need help setting this guy straight?"

"Nope. Thanks, Em. Jacob Black, just to double-check here…" I lifted my palms in a 'hold on' gesture, "you can read, right?"

"Of course," he scoffed.

"Then you read the part in our ad where we said we weren't looking for Romeos? Just vocals. 'Cause the ad was pay-per-word, so we didn't throw that line in there for shits and giggles."

Jacob Black shrugged. "I mean, Emmett and Rosalie are a couple, aren't they? I saw them making out hot and heavy earlier. And if you and me are gonna be singing together…" he trailed off and waggled his brows, "when in Rome."

"Dude," Emmett snapped.

"Asshole," Rose said.

"Yes, Jacob Black," I said, "Rosalie and Emmett are a couple. But their relationship was grandfathered in because they're founding members, and they were already a couple when we started the band. However, there will be no more coupling in the band. Romances between band members never end well. Take The Eurythmics, Sonic Youth, ABBA, Sonny & Cher." I enumerated these by holding up a finger for each. "And no, I'm not comparing myself to Annie Lenox or Cher, but why begin with odds already stacked against me? You feel me, Jacob Black?"

"Not yet, but I'd love to," he grinned lewdly. "By the way, what does 'grandfathered in' mean?"

"Oh, sweet baby Jesus," Rosalie moaned.

"Jacob Black, this is looking to be a really short probationary period."

"Cool!"

I threw up my hands.

"Here, I've got him." Volunteering, Alice sauntered over, and I turned away from Jacob Black.

"Be my guest," I muttered. Then, leaving her to it, I set to work packing up.

Apprehension snaked around my stomach. I hadn't expected the process of finding male vocals and another member who fit our band's close-knit personality to be easy. But Jacob Black was turning out to be a real character.

Then again, he'd literally just joined the band. There was bound to be an adjustment period. With a nod of perhaps delusional self-persuasion, I peered at Jacob and Alice to gauge how said adjustments were kicking off.

Standing on her tiptoes, Alice raked her fingers through Jacob's jet-black strands. She skimmed that same finger over his eyebrow piercing and dipped it into the indentation on his cleft. From there, she bounced the finger off of Jacob's tattoo sleeve, tracing the sinewy veins that ran like an avenue amid the design. To conclude this induction of Jacob into our band, Alice raked her nail down his checkered flannel shirt.

Yes, Jacob was physically attractive, but sex appeal hadn't been a priority when searching for a male vocalist. We needed a good match for my voice. Still, with his muscles, piercings, and tattoos, Jacob legitimized the part. In truth, it wasn't a con for a rock band. However, if there was one thing history proved, it was the danger a romance presented to a music band's survival.

Emmett's annoyed voice interrupted my thoughts. His impatience was surprising, as he was usually an easygoing, carefree type.

"Yo dude, you gonna be part of the band? Come help."

"Oh! Yeah, my bad. My bad."

While he shuffled off, my eyes met Alice's.

Her expression was one of feigned innocence. She and I discussed this before we auditioned any of the guys since we were the single girls in the group. We would not get involved. Nevertheless, whether I would've taken it up with her then or addressed it later became a moot point.

"Excuse me, is this where the male vocal auditions for Olympia are being held?"

My eyes shot to the open garage doors, beyond which stood an unfamiliar face. The droplets that fell in rhythmic succession peppered his shoulders and the black knit beanie he wore low over his forehead. Humidity fogged up his eyeglasses, concealing his eyes behind gray gauze.

He was dressed as if he'd been of two minds about his evening plans, and neither option included auditioning for a college band. A black pinstriped suit jacket layered a blue and grey horizontally striped sweater, which layered a white collar shirt. He paired this with blue jeans and Adidas. So, would he attend a communion party or the pub?

He carried a brown leather guitar case swung over a damp shoulder. If he ever decided to cross the garage's threshold out of the rain, he'd have to hunch and dip his head low to fit under the garage doors. Unlike Emmett, who also stood tall at a couple of inches over six feet, this guy was thin rather than brawny. Unlike Jacob, he had neither visible tattoos nor piercings. Instead of Emmett's long, bleach-blond curls or Jake's silky, straight black strands, shaggy, copper-penny-colored waves peeked out from underneath the stranger's beanie.

Emmett answered his question. "Sorry, man. Auditions are closed."

As if he'd been holding his breath, the guy exhaled a long gust, and his shoulders slumped in obvious disappointment. This caused his guitar bag to slip. It thudded onto my parents' wet gravel.

I was the only one who saw this. The rest returned to their business when Emmett answered the question, dismissing the guy from their notice. Still, he made no move to leave or to slip under the garage doors and out of the rain, which intensified yet again. Rivulets streamed down the folds of his suit jacket and dripped into miniature puddles around him.

"I would've been here earlier," he explained quietly, though, with his foggy glasses, it was hard to tell who he addressed, "but my car broke down. So I had to catch a bus to the ferry, which I missed. Then I had to wait for the next one."

"That sucks," Rose said, and although she sounded somewhat sympathetic, she mostly sounded distracted. In contrast, Jacob Black had zero sympathy and no problem speaking his heartless mind.

"Yeah, them are the breaks. And now I've got the gig. Hah!"

Before I could curse out Jacob Black, I caught movement in my periphery. The guy picked up his guitar, slung it over his shoulder, and returned toward the garage doors.

"Wait!"

He stopped, pivoting slowly back toward me…toward us. By then, the steamy haze that clouded his glass lenses had evaporated, and dark eyelashes clung together in silky, damp clusters. They framed a pair of the greenest eyes I'd ever seen, like a lush forest amid pewter concrete.

"You got a demo tape?" I managed to ask despite my distraction.

"Bella, what are you doing? Auditions are over," Rosalie whisper-hissed.

In truth, I wasn't sure what I was doing.

"No." The guy cleared his throat, and when he removed his beanie, the most disheveled riot of hair exploded like a volcano's red-black ash. He raked a hand back and forth through it. "No, uh, I…I don't have a demo tape."

I quirked a brow. "What experience do you have?"

"Bella, we just went through auditions," Emmett calmly reminded me.

"Not much beyond a couple of coffee houses and friends' parties. Stuff like that," the guy answered me.

"That's not experience," Alice scoffed. "That's fucking around. We might be a college band, but we're real performers. Besides, we're already packed up."

Her dismissiveness pissed me off more than everything else she'd done so far that evening, and I snapped at her.

"We can set up again if we need to, Alice."

She pulled back, startled, then briskly strode over to me.

"Bella, what are you doing?" Her voice was low, but it held more than an edge of irritation that made her annoyance come through loud and clear. "Who is this guy?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "I mean, I think I recognize him from around campus or something, but what do you mean, what am I doing? I'm giving him a fair chance."

"We gave everyone a fair chance – everyone who showed up on time."

"You heard him. His car broke down."

Mind you, none of this discussion was being held furtively.

"Bella, we went through auditions," she said through clenched teeth. "They're closed, and-"

"I've got a guitar," the guy said, "and I can audition with or without it."

"You're too late, but thanks for coming," Alice said decisively before giving him her back and walking away.

After that, the sounds of clean-up resumed – brooms sweeping, unplugged cords wound around heavy instruments, the instruments hefted – all except for the guy and me. He and I were locked in one another's gazes. After a few more heartbeats, he pulled his beanie back on and again made to turn toward the garage doors. And I'll never be sure if I called out to him, as I meant to, or if he spun back of his own accord despite the metaphorical door slammed in his face. Shouldering out of the leather bag, he set it on the floor, fluidly unzipping it, then pulled out the guitar. Then, eyes on me, he began:

"Her crown of curls and strings and drums
His mind it strums, it strums a song for her
And her eyes
Can't forget her eyes

Her eyes a coffee blur
In the rain they're the refrain
Her eyes, her eyes, her eyes"

The verse and chords flowed from him, oozed deep and rich like sugary grit that had been warmed then melted into smokey honey, neither words nor melody suffering from stutter or stem of lyrical flow. Instead, the harmony of voice and instrument was organic, a visceral reflex, as if singing and playing were simply two intrinsic functions of his system. As necessary as breathing.

"And his blood it's warm, his heart it sighs
It's rainin' out but all he sees are her eyes..."

Strumming his guitar, his tall frame abandoned lankiness. It kept a rhythmic beat with the heartrending yet seductively angsty music he created. With his green gaze still on me, he crooned a refrain…and I joined in, our voices melding together like day and night, like water and the human body, like butter and popcorn.

Like me and him...Edward.

"Her eyes, her eyes, her eyes
It's rainin'
All he sees are her eyes

Her eyes, her eyes, her eyes
It's rainin'
All he sees are her eyes…"


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Have a great weekend! "See" you Monday!