The following morning, Forks looked less like a town and more like a watercolor left out in the rain. Mist curled through the parking lot in pale ribbons. Students trudged toward the school like damp livestock, resigned to a fate of lockers and cafeteria meat.
Edward wasn't among them.
He wasn't leaning against his car. He wasn't pacing near the woods. He wasn't lurking in a convenient shadow like a gothic wall ornament.
He was simply absent again.
I should have felt relieved. Instead, my irritation was unusually sharp. I dislike inconsistency—except when I cause it.
Inside, the school hallways smelled of wet paper and teenage disappointment. I reached my locker and opened it.
A folded piece of paper fell out.
No one wrote notes anymore. Teenagers preferred texting, posting, and oversharing. This was deliberate.
I unfolded it. "Meet me after school.
The place you're already thinking of. —E"
Annoyingly vague. Annoyingly correct. He meant the cemetery. Naturally. He knows me well, already.
By the time classes ended, the rain had returned with the enthusiasm of a vengeful spirit. I walked to the cemetery without an umbrella, enjoying how the weather soaked through the town's pretense of normalcy.
The graveyard was quiet except for the hiss of rain on stone. Moss clung to old headstones like nature's attempt at handwriting.
Edward stood beneath a towering cedar, motionless except for the wind moving his hair. He looked like a statue someone forgot to carve warmth into.
"You really have an affinity for dramatic settings." I said.
"I wasn't sure you'd come." he replied.
"You left a note in my locker. That's practically an engraved invitation."
A faint smile. "You're difficult to predict."
"Most people's lives are equation-based. I prefer chaos theory."
He stepped closer. Not enough to be alarming, but enough to be intentional. "You wanted to know who I was before I died."
"I did."
He nodded toward the graves. "Then this is appropriate."
We walked between the headstones. The rain softened, as if eavesdropping.
"My human life was brief." Edward said. "Shorter than I expected. I was sick. Weak. Dying in increments."
"Sounds tedious."
"It was. And when it finally ended… I thought that was it. I welcomed it."
He touched the top of a weather-worn stone, fingers tracing the carved letters that time was slowly devouring.
"But someone decided I shouldn't die. Not fully."
"Who?"
"Carlisle. He thought he was saving me."
"And you disagree?"
He exhaled—not breath, but memory. "Salvation isn't always kindness."
I paused beside a black marble grave marker shaped like an obelisk. "You resent being alive."
"I resent what I became." he corrected. "The hunger. The instincts. The illusion of humanity. I play the role, but I am not the role."
"And yet you attend high school." I said. "Voluntarily. That suggests either insanity or masochism."
He glanced at me. "Or penance."
I considered that. "Who is it for?"
"Everyone." He hesitated. "And no one."
Another silence stretched between us, taut as wire.
The rain finally ceased, but the world remained gray—perfect for confessions.
"You said being near me is dangerous." I said. "Not just because of blood."
His expression tightened. "You ask questions the way some people use weapons."
"Accuracy is important."
"It's more than blood." he admitted. "It's… the way you look at me."
"How do I look at you?"
"Like you're not afraid. Like you're curious. Like you see past what I pretend to be."
"And that bothers you?"
"It terrifies me."
I stepped closer, closing the distance he kept trying to reestablish. "I don't terrify easily. Mutual fear creates balance."
His eyes flickered with frustration, fascination, and something darker.
"Wednesday," he said quietly, "I don't think you understand how thin the line is. How easily I could—"
"Lose control?" I finished. "So could I."
That startled him. As if the idea of me being a threat hadn't occurred to him. Interesting.
Thunder murmured in the distance. The trees swayed like watchers leaning in.
"What do you want from me?" he asked finally.
"Truth." I said. "Consistency. Answers."
"And what do you offer in return?"
"Observation. Honesty. And an unusual tolerance for the things that keep you up at night."
Another long silence. Then he spoke. "You should stay away."
"You keep saying that," I replied, "yet you keep inviting me closer."
His eyes closed briefly, as though the admission pained him.
"I know."
He opened them again, silver and intense.
"Wednesday… what happens if this ends badly?"
I smiled faintly.
"Then it will be the most interesting tragedy I've had in months."
Edward stared at me like someone staring at a lit match in a dark room—aware it could burn, but unable to look away.
"I want to trust you." he whispered. "I shouldn't. But I do."
"You're learning." I said.
He shook his head, a quiet laugh slipping out. "Or losing my mind."
"That's usually the first step toward honesty."
The rain started again, soft and cold.
Edward stepped back reluctantly. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"If you vanish again," I warned, "I'll assume you died a third time."
He smirked—small, genuine, and unsettlingly human.
"I'll try to avoid that."
He disappeared into the mist, leaving the cemetery—and me—behind.
That night I wrote: "Edward Cullen; a paradox wrapped in remorse, dipped in silver-eyed hunger. I intend to peel away every layer."
Then, a knock on my window. As I look over, there he is. Edward. He opens the window and climbs in. "Can I come in?"
"Have you jumped through windows before?"
He smiled. "The past few weeks, sure. Watching you sleep makes me feel.. good."
I was silently judging him, while also silently intrigued. He looked around. "Your room is.. interesting."
"It's dark. Just the way I like it." I replied. I stood up from my bed, staring at his every move. "What do you want?"
He walked closer to me, standing only a few feet away. "I wanted to see your room."
I could tell he was obviously lying. "My room? What a terrible liar you are. What? Are you falling in love?"
A slight grin appeared on his face. "I doubt it. Just curiousity."
Our eyes stayed locked in silence. His eyes looked at me like a puppy looking at its master. I could feel my heart beating fast. Fear? Confusion? Attraction? I doubt it. He's the one that seems attracted. It was only a matter of time before he himself realized admitted it.
His eyes scanned my body as he broke the silence. "I feel.. protective over you."
Well, that was quick. Almost as if he could read my thoughts.
Before I could open my mouth to speak, Edward grinned. "You've got some interesting thoughts."
My eyes opened slightly. "So, you can read minds. Intriguing." I blinked. Admittedly feeling a bit awkward.
"Your thoughts are things I've never heard before." He said. "Sometimes they're unexpected, sometimes they're nothing but dust."
Edward turned his back toward me, walking to the window. He stopped before he jumped.
"You should meet my family. They're curious about you."
"I'd love to. Gives me more of a chance to become one."
He left, almost instantly. I stood there for at least 30 seconds, not knowing if I should be impressed that he knew where I live, or be afraid of what he might do to me. But I don't give into fear. I never have, and I doubt I ever will.