As Mr. Banner distributed worksheets and the class settled into the rhythm of lab work, Veer became acutely aware of the undercurrents of tension radiating from his male classmates. His enhanced hearing picked up muttered conversations that painted a clear picture of social dynamics he'd walked into.
"...can't believe she's actually talking to him," Mike Newton was whispering to his lab partner with barely concealed bitterness. "I asked Jessamyn to the spring dance last year and she wouldn't even look at me."
"Dude, none of the Cullen girls talk to anyone," his partner replied. "Tyler tried to ask Eleanor out three times. Three times! She just smiled and said 'bless your heart' in that way that sounds nice but somehow makes you feel like an idiot."
From another table came Eric Yorkie's voice, thick with resignation: "And Edythe... man, I wrote her a poem. An actual poem. She read it, thanked me very politely, and then literally handed it back like it was homework I'd turned in to the wrong teacher."
Veer glanced around the classroom, noting the way several male students were shooting him looks that ranged from curious to openly hostile. The social mathematics were simple: the three most beautiful, most unattainable girls in school had never shown interest in anyone, and here was the new guy getting Jessamyn's full attention on his first day.
*Right,* he thought. *I've accidentally made enemies just by existing. This should be fun.*
But a more immediate concern was nagging at his mind. Jessamyn's casual reference to Game of Thrones had triggered something in his memory, and he needed to check a suspicion that was forming.
Under the pretense of checking for text messages, Veer pulled out his phone—a device he'd been carrying without really examining, but now noticed was a top-of-the-line Android. Apparently both versions of Veer agreed that Apple's post-Steve Jobs direction had been disappointing.
The date on the lock screen made his blood run cold: January 17th, 2025.
*2025.*
*Not 2005. Not even 2010. Twenty. Twenty. Five.*
The implications crashed over him like a tsunami. This wasn't the Twilight universe he remembered from the movies. This was twenty years later. Twenty years of technological advancement, cultural evolution, social change. Game of Thrones hadn't just been written—it had been adapted, aired, concluded, and probably rebooted by now.
Which meant everything he thought he knew about the timeline was wrong.
*The vampires have been living in this world for two decades longer than I thought,* he realized. *They've seen the rise of social media, streaming services, smartphones, electric cars. They've adapted to a completely different world than the one I remember from the films.*
His phone buzzed with a text notification, and he glanced down to see a message from Jacob: "Found out more about that Jeep. Want to check it out Saturday morning? Also, my dad wants to know if you're free for dinner tomorrow night. Fair warning: he's planning to tell embarrassing stories about your uncle."
Veer quickly typed back: "Saturday works great. And yes to dinner—Uncle Charlie could use some ego deflation."
But even as he responded to Jacob's text, his mind was spinning with the ramifications of his discovery. If this was 2025, then Bella wasn't walking into the same story he remembered. The supernatural world had evolved, adapted, changed in ways he couldn't predict.
"You alright, sugar?" Jessamyn's voice, soft and concerned, brought his attention back to their lab table. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
*If only you knew,* Veer thought, but managed a reassuring smile. "Just checking messages. My friend Jacob wants to show me a car this weekend."
"Jacob Black?" Jessamyn's eyebrows rose with interest. "Well now, that's interesting timing."
There was something in her tone that made Veer look up sharply, but before he could ask what she meant, Mr. Banner's voice cut through the classroom chatter.
"Alright, people, let's focus on the task at hand. Today we're examining cellular structures, and I want everyone to properly identify at least five different organelles in your samples."
As they bent over their microscopes, Veer found himself hyperaware of multiple conversations happening simultaneously. His enhanced hearing allowed him to track Edward and Bella's stilted interaction at table three, while also catching the subtle exchanges between the three Cullen sisters who were positioned strategically around the room.
Edward was struggling. Badly. Every few seconds, he'd tense up as if fighting some internal battle, his hands gripping the lab table hard enough that Veer could hear the faint stress sounds from the materials.
"Are you feeling alright?" Bella was asking, her voice carrying genuine concern. "You look... uncomfortable."
"I'm fine," Edward replied tersely, though his posture suggested the exact opposite. "Just... getting used to new lab partners."
At table six, Eleanor was maintaining a running commentary in a voice just barely above human hearing range. "Poor Eddie's about to lose his mind completely. Look at him trying not to breathe."
"Should we intervene?" Edythe's refined voice carried a note of concern from table two.
"And deprive him of this character-building experience?" Eleanor's response bubbled with barely contained laughter. "I think not. Besides, Alice said everything works out."
"Alice says a lot of things work out," Jessamyn murmured, apparently joining the conversation while still maintaining her focus on the microscope. "Doesn't mean the process is gonna be pretty."
Veer realized he was witnessing the Cullen family's supernatural group chat, conducted in voices too quiet for human ears but perfectly audible to his enhanced senses. The casual intimacy of it, the way they could maintain multiple conversations while appearing to focus on their lab work, was a reminder of just how different they were from the human students around them.
"Having trouble concentrating, darlin'?" Jessamyn asked, and there was amusement in her voice that suggested she'd noticed his attention wandering.
"Just observing social dynamics," he replied honestly. "It's fascinating how much drama can fit into one biology classroom."
"Honey, you ain't seen nothing yet," Jessamyn said with a grin that promised complications. "This is Forks on a quiet day."
"Define quiet," Veer said, adjusting his microscope focus and trying to look like he was actually examining cellular structures instead of eavesdropping on vampire family conversations.
"Well, nobody's gotten mysteriously injured, no one's disappeared under suspicious circumstances, and the weather's too mild for any interesting hunting," Jessamyn counted off with mock seriousness. "By local standards, this is practically boring."
*Hunting.* The casual way she said it made Veer's enhanced instincts hum with awareness. She wasn't talking about deer.
"You make it sound like living in a Stephen King novel," he said lightly.
"Sugar," Jessamyn's drawl deepened with genuine amusement, "Stephen King wishes he could come up with half the stuff that happens in small towns like this."
Before Veer could ask what she meant by that, a sharp crack from table three announced that Edward had just broken another pencil. This time, several students looked over with curiosity, and Mr. Banner himself glanced up from his grading with mild concern.
"Mr. Cullen," the teacher called out, "perhaps you'd like to use a pen instead? We seem to be going through writing implements rather quickly today."
Edward's expression was a masterpiece of barely controlled panic. "Sorry," he managed. "I'll... be more careful."
But as the class period continued, it became clear that careful wasn't really an option for Edward. Every few minutes, something else would crack, creak, or stress under his unconsciously applied strength. His lab stool made ominous sounds whenever he shifted position. The microscope's adjustment knobs protested his grip. Even his worksheet was developing small tears where his fingers had pressed too hard.
"He's really struggling," Veer observed quietly.
"Mmm," Jessamyn agreed, her voice warm with sympathy. "Poor boy's fighting every instinct he's got. It'd be admirable if it wasn't so obviously doomed to failure."
"What do you mean?"
Jessamyn looked up from her microscope, meeting his eyes with an expression that was both knowing and gentle. "Sometimes, sugar, the harder you fight against something that's meant to be, the more damage you do to yourself and everyone around you."
The words carried weight that went far beyond Edward's situation, and Veer found himself wondering if she was talking about more than just his apparent brother's romantic crisis.
"And what would you recommend instead?" he asked softly.
Jessamyn's smile was like sunrise after a long night. "Accept that some things are bigger than your control, and trust that maybe—just maybe—the universe knows what it's doing."
As the class period wound toward its end, Veer found himself caught between multiple layers of awareness. The 2025 revelation had upended everything he thought he knew about this world. The casual hostility from his male classmates suggested social complications he hadn't anticipated. Edward's barely controlled crisis was playing out exactly as expected, but twenty years later than he'd imagined.
And threading through it all was the growing certainty that Jessamyn Hale—with her honey-sweet drawl, tactical competence, and knowing golden eyes—was going to be either the best thing that had ever happened to him or the most beautiful disaster he'd ever survived.
*Probably both,* he decided as the bell rang and students began gathering their things.
"Same time tomorrow, darlin'?" Jessamyn asked, and her voice carried promise along with the question.
"Wouldn't miss it," Veer replied, meaning every word.
As they parted ways, he caught one final exchange between the three sisters that made his pulse quicken with anticipation and concern in equal measure.
"So?" Eleanor's voice carried clearly to his enhanced hearing. "First official interaction. How was it?"
"Even better than expected," Jessamyn replied, her drawl warm with satisfaction. "Though I think our boy's figuring out that this world is a lot more complicated than he initially thought."
"Good," Edythe said with refined approval. "Intelligence is attractive. Adaptability even more so."
*They know I'm listening,* Veer realized with a start. *They're talking just loud enough for me to hear on purpose.*
The thought should have been concerning, but instead he found himself smiling as he gathered his things.
After all, if three supernatural beauties wanted to flirt with him through strategic eavesdropping, there were certainly worse problems to have.
Even in 2025.
—
As the biology lab emptied and students dispersed toward their final classes, Veer fell into step beside Bella, who was clutching her books with the kind of white-knuckled grip that suggested she was using them as emotional support.
"Well," she said as they navigated the hallway traffic, "that was... intense."
"Edward seemed a little overwhelmed," Veer agreed diplomatically, though his enhanced hearing had picked up every strained breath, every muttered curse, every moment when the vampire had nearly lost control completely.
Bella stopped walking abruptly, turning to face him with an expression of mortified concern. "Veer, I need you to be completely honest with me. Do I... do I smell?"
The question caught him off guard, though he supposed it made sense from her perspective. She'd watched her lab partner spend an entire class period looking like he was fighting not to flee the room, gripping lab equipment hard enough to damage it, and generally acting like her presence was causing him physical pain.
"Bella, no," he said firmly. "You smell fine. You smell like... soap and strawberry shampoo and that vanilla lotion you've used since we were kids."
"Then why did he act like I was radioactive?" she asked, her voice small and hurt. "I mean, I know I'm not exactly Miss Popularity, but I've never had someone react to me like I was carrying some kind of plague."
*Because your blood smells like his personal brand of heroin, and he's spent a century building up self-control that just got obliterated in the space of fifty minutes,* Veer thought, but obviously couldn't say that.
"Some people are just... intense," he said instead. "Maybe he's having an off day. Maybe he's dealing with personal stuff. It probably has nothing to do with you specifically."
*Total bullshit,* his conscience whispered. *It has everything to do with her specifically.*
But Bella seemed to accept the explanation, or at least decide not to press the issue. "I guess," she said with a sigh. "It's just... this is exactly the kind of thing I was worried about when we moved here. Being the weird new girl who somehow makes people uncomfortable just by existing."
"Bella, you are not weird," Veer said with enough conviction to make her look up in surprise. "You're thoughtful, intelligent, loyal, and one of the most genuinely good people I know. If Edward Cullen can't see that, then his loss."
She smiled, the first real smile he'd seen from her since the biology disaster. "Thanks. I needed to hear that."
"Anytime. Now come on—we've got gym class, and I have a feeling Coach Clapp is going to be just thrilled to have two new students to terrorize."
As they approached the gymnasium, Veer felt his stomach tighten with anticipation. Gym class presented unique challenges when you possessed divine strength and reflexes that could accidentally put regular humans in the hospital. He was going to have to be very, very careful not to reveal just how enhanced his everything had become.
"See you after we change," Bella said, heading toward the girls' locker room with a resignation that suggested she'd never enjoyed physical education.
"Try not to let Coach Clapp intimidate you too much," Veer called after her. "Remember, he's probably more afraid of Charlie than you are of him."
Bella's laugh followed her through the locker room door, and Veer felt a moment of satisfaction at having cheered her up before turning toward his own changing ordeal.
The boys' locker room was exactly what he'd expected—industrial tile, the lingering scent of adolescent anxiety and cheap deodorant, metal lockers that clanged with every opening and closing. Coach Clapp had already assigned him a locker and handed him a combination with the kind of efficiency that spoke of decades of processing new students.
Veer found his assigned space and began the process of changing into gym clothes, trying to keep his movements casual and unremarkable. But as he pulled off his button-down shirt, the ambient noise of the locker room shifted in a way that made his enhanced senses go on alert.
Conversations stopped mid-sentence. The usual sounds of rustling clothes and slamming lockers seemed muffled. Even the freshman who'd been arguing about some video game fell silent.
*What the hell?* Veer thought, glancing around to find every male student in sight staring at him with expressions ranging from awe to barely disguised envy.
His enhanced hearing kicked in automatically, sifting through the whispered conversations that had replaced the normal locker room chatter:
"Jesus Christ, look at him..."
"Dude, is he on steroids or something?"
"No way that's natural. Nobody our age looks like that..."
"I've been lifting weights for two years and I don't have half those abs..."
"My sister's gonna die when she sees him in gym shorts..."
Veer glanced down at himself and immediately understood the problem. Where every other student in the locker room had the typical build of teenagers—some thin, some soft, some starting to fill out but still clearly works in progress—Veer's physique belonged in a completely different category.
The divine enhancement had sculpted his body into something that looked like Michelangelo's David if the Renaissance master had been working with supernatural specifications. His chest and shoulders were broad but perfectly proportioned, his abs were defined in a way that suggested both discipline and genetics that defied mortal limitations, and his arms carried the kind of lean muscle that spoke of functional strength rather than gym vanity.
He looked, in short, like someone who should be on the cover of Men's Health rather than changing for high school gym class.
*Subtle, R.O.B.,* he thought grimly. *Really going for that low-profile approach, weren't you?*
More whispered observations reached his enhanced hearing:
"How is his skin perfect too? Like, not even a zit or anything..."
"I bet he's been working out since he was like ten or something..."
"My girlfriend's gonna take one look at him and realize I'm basically a walking stick figure..."
"Think he plays sports? Bet colleges are already recruiting him..."
Veer finished changing as quickly as possible, pulling on gym shorts and a t-shirt that, unfortunately, did absolutely nothing to disguise the issue. If anything, the fitted athletic wear only emphasized just how dramatically different his build was from his classmates.
Mike Newton, who'd been shooting him hostile looks since lunch, was staring with the kind of defeated expression usually reserved for discovering your car had been totaled.
"Man," Mike muttered to Tyler Crowley, "and I thought the Cullen guys made the rest of us look bad."
"At least they're weird and antisocial," Tyler replied morosely. "This guy's probably normal and nice too."
*If only you knew,* Veer thought, but tried to keep his expression friendly and approachable as he closed his locker.
From across the changing area, he caught sight of a familiar face—one of the boys from his AP History class was staring with the kind of scientific fascination usually reserved for discovering new species.
"Hey," the boy said, approaching with careful casualness. "I'm Ben. We're in Varner's class together."
"Veer," he replied, accepting the handshake and being very careful not to demonstrate exactly how strong his grip had become.
"So, uh," Ben continued with the awkward directness that marked teenage curiosity, "do you like, compete in something? Bodybuilding or martial arts or whatever?"
*Divine transformation and supernatural strength training,* Veer thought, but said, "Just staying active. Sports, working out when I can, that kind of thing."
"Right," Ben nodded like that explanation made perfect sense, though his expression suggested he was filing away information for later gossip sessions.
As the locker room began to empty and students headed toward the gymnasium proper, Veer found himself caught between amusement and concern. The reaction to his enhanced physique was both more dramatic and more awkward than he'd anticipated.
He was going to have to be extremely careful during actual physical activities not to accidentally demonstrate that his appearance was just the visible tip of a much larger supernatural iceberg.
*Great,* he thought as he followed the stream of students toward whatever fresh hell Coach Clapp had planned. *Now I have to hide divine strength, vampire-level reflexes, and the kind of coordination that comes from literally being blessed by Hindu deities. While looking like I stepped out of a fitness magazine.*
*This is going to be interesting.*
Behind him, the whispered conversations continued, ensuring that by the end of the day, every student at Forks High would know that the new guy looked like he'd been personally sculpted by whatever divine forces governed teenage fantasies.
Which, Veer reflected grimly, wasn't actually that far from the truth.
—
As they emerged from the locker rooms into the gymnasium, Veer immediately understood that his changing room situation had been the preview, not the main event. The moment he stepped into view, every female conversation in the gym stuttered to a halt.
*Oh, come on,* he thought as he felt the weight of at least twenty pairs of eyes tracking his movement across the polished wooden floor.
Lauren Mallory, who had somehow managed to position herself with a perfect sightline to the boys' locker room exit, was staring with an expression that could only be described as predatory satisfaction. Her gym outfit—regulation shorts and t-shirt that she'd somehow tailored to look like designer sportswear—seemed strategically chosen to draw attention, but right now all the attention in the room was flowing in the opposite direction.
"Well," she announced loudly enough for half the gym to hear, "the view in PE just got a lot more interesting."
Several of her friends giggled in agreement, their voices carrying the kind of performance quality that suggested they were playing to an audience. Veer felt his jaw tighten with irritation. Being objectified by teenagers was not how he'd planned to spend his afternoon.
He made his way quickly to where Bella was standing near the equipment storage, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else in the world. Her gym clothes hung loose and shapeless, and her posture radiated the resignation of someone who'd spent years being picked last for every team sport.
"Ready for this?" he asked quietly, though he already knew the answer.
"About as ready as anyone can be for public humiliation," Bella replied with dark humor. "Fair warning—I have the athletic coordination of a newly born giraffe. On ice. During an earthquake."
Veer's enhanced hearing caught fragments of whispered conversations from around the gym:
"Is that really what he looks like under regular clothes?"
"I volunteer to be his gym partner..."
"Think he's single? He has to be single..."
"Lauren's already marked her territory, but honestly, good luck to her..."
Coach Clapp's whistle cut through the ambient noise like a knife through silk. The man himself was exactly what Veer had expected from small-town high school physical education—stocky, no-nonsense, with the kind of voice that had been projecting across gymnasiums for decades.
"Alright, people, listen up!" Coach Clapp announced, his voice echoing off the high ceiling. "Today we're playing volleyball. I want to see teamwork, communication, and effort. Not necessarily skill—" his eyes found Bella with practiced accuracy "—but effort."
*At least he's realistic about expectations,* Veer thought.
"Newton, you're captain of team one. Mallory, you've got team two."
*Of course Lauren gets to be a captain,* Veer realized with growing dread. *This is about to become infinitely more complicated.*
The team selection process unfolded with brutal teenage efficiency. Mike Newton, clearly torn between his lingering interest in Bella and his obvious awareness that Veer represented serious competition, made his picks with strategic consideration. Lauren, meanwhile, was operating with laser focus.
"Veer," she called out with her first pick, her voice carrying enough honey to stock a health food store. "You're with me, gorgeous."
The collective sigh of disappointment from the other girls in the gym was audible. Veer felt his stomach drop as he realized he was about to be separated from Bella, leaving her to navigate volleyball without any protection from accidentally dangerous plays.
"Actually," Coach Clapp interrupted before Veer could move, "I'm mixing things up today. Newton, take Dwyer. Mallory, you get Yorkie."
Lauren's expression shifted from triumph to barely concealed irritation, but she recovered quickly. "Of course, Coach. Though I was looking forward to... collaborating with our new student."
*I bet you were,* Veer thought grimly.
As the teams formed up, Veer found himself on Mike's team alongside Bella, Angela Weber, and several other students who looked like they approached volleyball with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Lauren's team included Jessica Stanley, Tyler Crowley, and Eric Yorkie, along with a few others who carried themselves like actual athletes.
"Okay, team," Mike announced with the kind of forced leadership energy that suggested he was trying to impress someone. "Let's show them how it's done."
"Mike," Bella said quietly, "I should probably mention that my version of volleyball involves a lot of apologizing and possibly some minor injuries."
"Don't worry about it," Angela said with genuine kindness. "Just try to stay out of the way when the ball's coming fast."
As they took their positions on the court, Veer found himself calculating angles and trajectories with the kind of precision that came from enhanced reflexes and divine awareness. He could see exactly how each play would unfold, could predict where the ball would land, could position himself to make spectacular saves and devastating spikes.
He could also see exactly how badly that would end.
*Remember,* he told himself as Coach Clapp prepared to serve the first ball into play, *you're supposed to be a normal teenager. Gifted, maybe, but not supernaturally gifted. Keep it subtle.*
The serve came over the net with decent power, arcing toward the back corner of their court. Tyler Crowley had put some real effort into it, clearly trying to make an impression. The trajectory would take it just over Bella's head, and Veer could see her calculating whether to attempt a return or duck for cover.
*Duck,* he thought urgently. *Definitely duck.*
But Bella, perhaps motivated by the weight of spectator attention, made the decision to go for it. She jumped, arms raised, and managed to make contact with the ball in a way that sent it spinning wildly off course—directly toward the face of a girl named Sarah who was standing near the net.
Time seemed to slow as Veer's enhanced perception kicked into high gear. The ball was moving fast enough to cause real damage if it connected. Sarah was frozen in surprise, not moving to protect herself. And Veer was positioned perfectly to intercept, but doing so would require reflexes that no normal human teenager should possess.
*Damn it.*
He moved, but carefully. Instead of the lightning-fast intervention his instincts demanded, he lunged forward with what he hoped looked like exceptional but not impossible athleticism. His hand connected with the ball just inches from Sarah's face, deflecting it upward in a high arc that gave the play time to reset.
"Nice save!" Angela called out, and the appreciation in her voice was genuine.
But Lauren, from across the net, was watching him with calculating eyes. "Very nice," she purred. "Fast reflexes."
*Too fast?* Veer wondered, but there wasn't time to worry about it as the game continued.
What followed was a careful exercise in strategic mediocrity. Every instinct Veer possessed screamed at him to dominate the game—to spike with devastating power, to dive for impossible saves, to demonstrate the kind of athletic superiority that came with divine enhancement. Instead, he found himself playing an intricate game of appearing good but not too good, helpful but not superhuman.
It helped that Bella was, in fact, as athletically challenged as she'd warned. Her serves barely made it over the net. Her attempts at spikes sent balls careening in unpredictable directions. And her defensive positioning seemed to be based on the principle that if she stayed very still, perhaps the ball would ignore her entirely.
"Swan!" Coach Clapp called out after a particularly spectacular miss. "The ball's not going to bite you! Get under it!"
"Sorry, Coach!" Bella called back, her cheeks red with embarrassment.
Veer found himself in constant motion, not because he was dominating the game, but because he was running damage control. A gentle bump here to redirect one of Bella's wild returns. A subtle repositioning there to ensure her serves at least stayed in bounds. It was like playing volleyball while simultaneously running a protection detail.
"You're really good at this," Angela observed during a brief break between points. "Do you play on a team back in Phoenix?"
"Just pickup games," Veer replied, which was technically true if you counted the fact that his memories included plenty of casual sports. "Nothing serious."
From across the net, Lauren was maintaining a running commentary clearly designed to draw his attention: "Oh, good try, Veer! You're so athletic!" and "I love watching someone who really knows how to handle balls!"
*She did not just say that,* Veer thought, trying to keep his expression neutral while several students snickered at Lauren's double entendre.
Bella, meanwhile, was looking increasingly mortified as her athletic incompetence became more apparent with each play. After her third consecutive serve into the net, she glanced at Veer with an expression of pure humiliation.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I'm making us look terrible."
"Hey," he said, moving closer so their conversation wouldn't carry, "you're doing fine. This is supposed to be fun, remember?"
"Fun for who?" she asked with dark humor. "The people watching me discover new ways to violate the laws of physics?"
Despite himself, Veer grinned. "Your serve technique is definitely unique. I'm pretty sure you just invented a new type of spin that defies conventional understanding of aerodynamics."
That got a reluctant smile from her, and some of the tension left her shoulders.
The game continued, and Veer settled into the rhythm of strategic assistance. He was good enough to keep their team competitive, athletic enough to draw appreciative comments, but careful enough not to display anything that couldn't be explained by natural talent and good training.
At least, he hoped he was being careful enough.
But as Lauren's team scored the winning point and the players began to gather their equipment, Veer caught a familiar scent that made his enhanced senses snap to attention.
Vampires. Close by.
His eyes found the gymnasium's high windows, where three familiar figures were visible in silhouette. The Cullen sisters, watching from outside with the kind of stillness that marked supernatural observation.
How long had they been there? And more importantly, how much had they seen?
*Well,* he thought as Coach Clapp dismissed the class and students began heading back to the locker rooms, *this day just keeps getting more interesting.*
Behind him, Lauren was already planning her next approach, her voice carrying clearly to his enhanced hearing: "Jessica, find out what his next class is. I want to accidentally run into him after school..."
And somewhere outside those windows, three vampire sisters were undoubtedly comparing notes on their mate's athletic performance and strategic restraint.
The final bell couldn't come soon enough.
—
The three Cullen sisters moved through the hallway with their characteristic fluid grace, but beneath the supernatural elegance, tension crackled like electricity before a storm. Students instinctively stepped aside as they passed, responding to something primal that warned them these particular predators were not in a tolerant mood.
"Did you see the way that little blonde harpy was throwing herself at him?" Eleanor's voice was pitched low enough that only vampire hearing could catch it, but the controlled fury beneath her words was unmistakable.
"I saw," Edythe replied, her refined composure intact but her golden eyes flashing with something decidedly possessive. "The volleyball commentary was particularly... aggressive."
Jessamyn's honey drawl carried an edge that would have made seasoned soldiers reconsider their life choices. "Sugar, I've heard more subtle mating calls from cats in heat. That girl has all the finesse of a freight train."
They paused at the intersection of two hallways, ostensibly consulting their schedules but actually processing what they'd witnessed through the gymnasium windows. Their enhanced vision had caught every detail of the volleyball game—Lauren's strategic positioning, her calculated touches, her increasingly bold attempts to capture Veer's attention.
More importantly, they'd observed their mate's careful restraint.
"He's holding back," Eleanor noted with obvious approval. "Did you see that save when the Swan girl nearly took out that other student? His reflexes are definitely enhanced, but he's working hard to appear normal."
"Smart boy," Jessamyn agreed, though her voice still carried undertones of irritation. "Knows better than to reveal his true nature in a high school gymnasium."
"Unlike certain individuals who seem determined to make spectacles of themselves," Edythe added with arctic precision.
Eleanor bounced slightly on her toes, energy radiating from her compact frame. "I vote we introduce ourselves properly. Today. Before Miss Hair Extensions decides to escalate her campaign."
"Patience, Eleanor," Edythe counseled, though her own desire for immediate action was evident in the subtle tension of her shoulders. "We discussed this with Alice. The timing has to be natural."
"Natural?" Eleanor's voice climbed slightly before she remembered to keep it vampire-quiet. "There was nothing natural about the way that girl was practically throwing herself at him. Did you hear what she said about 'handling balls'?"
Jessamyn's eyes narrowed to golden slits. "Oh, I heard. And if she thinks some cheap double entendres are going to impress a boy with his obvious... sophistication... she's about to learn the difference between playing games and playing with fire."
The warning bell rang, signaling five minutes until the next class period. Around them, students hurried past with the typical end-of-day energy, but the three sisters remained motionless, a island of supernatural stillness in the sea of human activity.
"He protected her," Edythe observed suddenly, her voice carrying a note of something deeper than approval. "The Swan girl. Every time she was about to embarrass herself or potentially get hurt, he was there. Subtle, careful, but absolutely devoted to keeping her safe."
"Protective instincts," Eleanor said with satisfaction. "I love a man who looks out for family."
"Even when it meant limiting his own performance," Jessamyn added, her tactical mind already analyzing the implications. "He could have dominated that game completely, but he chose to blend in rather than outshine her. That takes discipline."
Edythe's expression softened slightly. "And genuine affection. He wasn't just going through the motions—he genuinely cares about her wellbeing."
"Which makes him perfect for us," Eleanor declared with characteristic directness. "Someone who understands loyalty, protection, putting others before yourself. Though I still say we need to do something about the blonde situation before it gets out of hand."
"What exactly are you proposing?" Jessamyn asked, though her tone suggested she was already considering various options.
Eleanor's smile was sharp enough to cut glass. "Nothing dramatic. Just a subtle reminder about territorial boundaries. Maybe a friendly conversation about the importance of respecting other people's... interests."
"Eleanor," Edythe warned, "we cannot simply intimidate every girl who shows interest in him. That's not how civilized beings handle romantic competition."
"Since when is Lauren Mallory civilized?" Eleanor shot back. "Did you see her in History? The way she kept leaning over him, touching his hand, making those little sounds whenever he spoke? She's about as subtle as a car alarm."
Jessamyn's drawl deepened with amusement. "Eleanor's got a point, sugar. That girl's operating with all the delicacy of Sherman marching through Georgia."
"Still," Edythe maintained her position, "we need to be strategic. Overt possessiveness before we've even properly introduced ourselves will only create unnecessary drama."
"Then maybe," Eleanor said with growing excitement, "it's time for proper introductions. Today. After school. What could be more natural than welcoming the new students to Forks?"
The three sisters exchanged looks loaded with supernatural communication—micro-expressions, subtle scent changes, the kind of wordless dialogue that came from decades of shared existence.
"Alice did say the timing would present itself," Jessamyn mused.
"And he's clearly already aware of our interest," Edythe added. "His behavior in biology suggested he knows exactly what he's walked into."
Eleanor practically vibrated with anticipation. "So we're doing this? Today?"
Before either of her sisters could respond, the final bell rang, sending students scrambling toward their last classes of the day. The hallway began to empty, leaving the three vampires alone with their planning.
"Today," Edythe agreed with quiet resolution. "But we do this properly. Together. As a family."
"And if Little Miss Volleyball tries to interfere?" Eleanor asked with dangerous sweetness.
Jessamyn's smile carried the promise of very polite destruction. "Then she'll discover that Southern hospitality has its limits, darlin'."
As they finally moved toward their respective classrooms, each sister was already mentally preparing for the most important introduction of their extremely long lives.
Behind them, the scent of their passage lingered—jasmine, vanilla, and something wild that spoke of barely contained predatory grace.
By the end of the day, everyone at Forks High would know that the Cullen sisters had finally found something worth claiming.
And Lauren Mallory was about to discover that some competitions were far more dangerous than high school volleyball.
---
Hey fellow fanfic enthusiasts!
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!
If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord (HHHwRsB6wd) server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!
Can't wait to see you there!