The morning sunlight poured through the windshield as Mike Newton pulled into the familiar driveway, honking once before hopping out. Beth Crowley, Tyler's mom, was already on the porch, coffee in hand, her bathrobe fluttering slightly in the breeze.
"Good morning, Beth!" Mike greeted cheerfully, leaning against the car with his trademark grin. "You look radiant as always. Tyler must have gotten his looks from the other side of the family, because if he had gotten them from you, girls would be raining on him."
Beth laughed, waving him off. "Flattery this early, Mike? You must want something."
"Just being honest," he said innocently, hands up in mock surrender. "Though if you ever get tired of Tyler, we could switch places so I can come live with you."
"Dream on," she replied with a chuckle as Tyler appeared in the doorway, backpack slung over his shoulder and an expression that could curdle milk.
"Dude, stop flirting with my mom," Tyler groaned, brushing past him toward the car.
Mike smirked as he followed. "Can't help it. She's nicer to me than you are."
They got in, the engine rumbling to life. As they drove down the familiar road to school, the radio played something upbeat, and Mike found himself humming along, tapping the steering wheel in rhythm.
Tyler shot him a suspicious look. "You're way too happy for a Monday. What's up?"
Mike just grinned wider, eyes on the road. "What's not to be happy about? The weather's great, sun's shining…"
He didn't add the real reason out loud.
Sunny weather meant no Cullens at school today. No Edward staring holes into the back of his skull. No subtle psychic duels where he had to fill his mind with random nonsense just to mess with the guy.
Not that it wasn't fun. He took pride in being one of the few people who could make the vampire flinch just by thinking of a banana costume tap-dancing competition. But it got exhausting sometimes, trying to stay one step ahead of a telepath.
And honestly? He was running out of annoying songs to keep playing in his head. There were only so many times a man could mentally hum Baby Shark before questioning his own sanity.
So yeah, it was a good day. The kind of day where nothing weird happened, hopefully.
…
The cafeteria buzzed with the usual chatter, the clatter of trays, and the faint, burnt-cheese smell that never quite left the place. Mike sat with his usual crew: Jessica, Lauren, Angela, Ben, Eric, Tyler, and Bella. His tray sported a few slices of cafeteria "pizza" that looked more like a science experiment than lunch.
Bella had been unusually quiet, her eyes scanning the crowded room instead of eating.
Jessica noticed immediately. "Who are you looking for?" she asked, a knowing edge in her tone.
Bella blinked, as if caught. "No one. I just thought…"
"Cullen?" Jessica interrupted, already smirking. "Don't bother. They don't come to school when it's sunny."
Bella frowned slightly. "What? Why not?"
Jessica gave a dramatic shrug, clearly enjoying being the one with information. "Their parents take them camping or something. Like, every time the sun's out. Family tradition, I guess. Weird, right?"
Bella's brow furrowed as she stabbed her salad, lost in thought.
Mike, meanwhile, was blissfully unaware of any vampire-related curiosity. He took another big bite of his pizza, grimaced at the taste, then kept eating anyway. It wasn't good, but the day was, and that was enough.
Angela caught the faint smile tugging at his mouth. "You're awfully chipper today," she observed, pushing her glasses up.
Eric leaned in, grinning. "Yeah, spill it, man. It can't be the pizza, unless your taste buds are broken."
Tyler chuckled. "Or he finally found someone who actually likes his jokes."
Mike froze mid-chew as seven pairs of eyes locked onto him with instant gossip-mode intensity. "Uh, what?"
Jessica crossed her arms, already suspicious. "You're smiling like you just won the lottery. What gives?"
For a moment, Mike thought about brushing it off, but the good mood was too strong to resist. He swallowed, grin widening. "I met a girl."
The table erupted instantly.
"Whoa!" Eric said, nearly dropping his soda. "Mike Newton's got a mystery girl?"
Angela smiled, genuinely happy for him. "That's nice. What's she like?"
Jessica, however, went very still, her straw frozen halfway to her mouth. She forced a laugh that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Oh, really? And when exactly did this happen?"
Mike missed the sharpness in her tone completely. "Yesterday. In La Push. She's, uh, kind of… different."
"Different how?" Angela asked, curious.
He thought of Leah's sharp wit, her fierce eyes, and the way she'd called him pipsqueak even though he towered over her. Mike just grinned, shaking his head. "Just… different. You'll see."
Jessica's smile faltered a little more. "Can't wait," she muttered, poking at her food.
Mike, oblivious, leaned back with a satisfied sigh. Yeah, life was definitely looking up.
…
He dropped Tyler off and should've been fine, should've let the day close on that easy, sunny note. Instead, the image of Leah's laugh kept replaying in his head, like a song stuck on repeat.
He fished his flip phone out of his pocket and thumbed open the keypad. Text, new message. He paused, heart doing that stupid flip. He'd forgotten to ask for her number.
"Of course I did," he muttered to himself. "Leah was right. I'm such an idiot."
Then he remembered something useful: she'd said she worked as a cashier at the grocery on the reservation. That was something. That was something he could act on.
He fired up the engine of his Mountaineer and tore out of the curb like a man on a mission. The white SUV swallowed the stretch of road to La Push, tires throwing up little sprays of slush. His stomach hopped with nervous energy the whole way, he'd never done anything this impulsive in his life (well, except that skateboard incident, but he was determined not to end up in a bush this time).
He pulled up near the reservation and killed the engine. The air smelled of salt and spruce. He hopped out and asked directions like a normal person, except his normal is kind of an idiot.
"Which grocery?" the kid at the diner asked when Mike explained.
"Grocery?" Mike echoed. "Uh, there's, like… two, right? Which one's closer?"
The kid nodded, pointing down the road. "Old Mill's that way. The other one's by the marina. You want Old Mill."
Mike thanked him like he'd been handed gold and jogged to Old Mill.
Inside, it was small and practical, cash register, shelving, a bell that jingled when he pushed the door. He scanned aisles like he was looking for the Holy Grail and finally went up to the woman at the register.
"Hey, do you know Leah Clearwater?" he asked, trying to sound casual and failing by a solid margin.
The woman blinked at him. "Leah?" she repeated. "She works the other store, dear. Not here."
"Other store?" Mike's shoulders slumped a fraction. "Okay, thanks…"
He turned and practically ran down toward the marina-side market before he remembered he had come by car, so he ran back to his mountaineer and drove the two miles. When he pushed open the door, his cheeks were flushed from the nerves, and his hair was sticking up from the wind. He tried to calm himself, remembering to breathe.
The lady behind the counter was old, small, wiry, and definitely not impressed. She peered at him over half-moon spectacles.
"You lost, young man?" she asked, hand drifting toward a heavy object behind the counter that looked suspiciously like a walking stick.
Mike stepped forward, hopeful. "Sorry to bother you, ma'am. I'm looking for Leah Clearwater. I met her, uh, yesterday? She's a cashier here, right? I met her on the beach and…"
The old woman's eyes narrowed so fast his stomach flipped. With one motion she reached under the counter and came up holding a battered shotgun like she'd been born holding farm implements and distrust.
"Listen here," she said, voice cold as the ocean. "You come in here sniffing around and you think we don't know what kind of folks show up looking for young girls? You ain't from around here, boy. You try any funny business and I'll fill you so full of lead you'll be a pincushion for the gulls."
Mike's grin died a dramatic, embarrassed death. "No! No, Jesus, no, I'm not, look, I know her. We, she's a friend. I'm not a creep, I swear."
The shotgun lowered an inch. The woman's gaze didn't soften much, but she exhaled like she was deciding whether to be merciful. "She works tomorrow," she said finally. "Mornings. Don't come here tonight. And don't get any ideas. If I catch you skulking, I'll do what I said."
"Understood," Mike said, voice way too high. "Got it. I'll leave. I'll go now. Thanks. Sorry."
He turned on his heel and practically sprinted back to the Mountaineer, cheeks flushed, dignity somewhere under a shelf of canned tuna.
As he drove away, he ran the whole thing over in his head; gun, glare, the old woman's warning. He should have felt crushed. Instead he felt stubbornly determined.
Tomorrow. He'd come back tomorrow. He'd show up when she was working, skip school if he needed to. He'd be normal and not awkward and definitely not a creep. He'd ask for her number properly.
And maybe, if the universe cooperated, he'd do it without getting threatened with lead again.
Either way, mission: not-quite-accomplished. But definitely in progress.
…