2. Something you're not telling me

The porch light flickered.

Not like a dying bulb. Like a warning.

Edward Cullen stood just inside the doorway, dripping wet, water beading on the collar of his gray hoodie. His hands were clenched into fists, white-knuckled. His eyes were fixed on me—not like I was a person, but a code he couldn’t crack.

I leaned one shoulder against the frame and folded my arms. “So,” I said, voice light, “is this some weird Culleny custom? You avoid me all week and now you’re... making a house call?”

His jaw twitched. “I wasn’t avoiding you.”

“Sure. You just happened to vanish for three days after sitting next to me in Biology and then reappear at my door like Dracula’s emotionally repressed cousin.”

Something like amusement flickered in his eyes.

Just barely.

“I came back because I had questions,” he said.

“You could’ve waited until school.”

“I didn’t want to.”

I tilted my head. “Right. Because this is definitely the normal way to approach someone.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he glanced past me—into the house, into the dimness of the hallway like he was trying to sense something.

Or someone.

“Bella’s not here,” I said. “Charlie’s asleep. And you’ve got about ninety seconds before this gets weird.”

His gaze returned to mine. “It’s already weird.”

Well. At least we agreed on something.

---

We ended up sitting on the porch.

It was awkward, stiff, the way strangers sit when they both know something is happening but no one wants to say it first.

I crossed my arms again, the chill starting to settle into my bones. Edward sat with perfect posture, not even shivering.

“So?” I finally said. “Ask your questions.”

He studied me for a moment. “You’re not what you seem.”

I laughed, short and humorless. “Wow. Forks boys really know how to charm.”

“I’m serious, Aster.”

The way he said my name made it sound... different. Like it meant something. My mouth went dry.

He continued, voice low. “When I sat next to you, it felt like... pressure. Like the air bent.”

I swallowed.

“You don’t wear cologne,” he said. “You don’t move oddly. But something about you…” His eyes narrowed. “I’ve never felt that kind of energy from a human before.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

He said human. Not person.

He noticed the shift in my expression and went still.

“You know something too, don’t you?” he asked, quiet now. “You’re not scared. Not really. Just... careful.”

I stayed silent.

Because what was I supposed to say?

Yes, I can shatter glass with my emotions and I haven’t told anyone, not even my sister, and sometimes the wind listens when I cry.

He kept staring. Waiting.

“You’re wrong,” I said finally. “I’m just a guy.”

His eyes said he didn’t believe me.

But—for some reason—he let it go.

---

The next day at school, the Cullens were... different.

They didn’t just ignore me like they used to. Now they watched. Quietly. Casually.

Collectively.

Alice smiled when I passed her in the hallway, like she knew something I didn’t. Emmett gave me a once-over during lunch that lingered a second too long. Rosalie didn’t glare, but she didn’t smile either—which I considered neutral.

Jasper, though?

He flinched when I walked past. Then locked eyes with me like he’d been electrocuted.

It felt like he tasted something in me. And didn’t know whether he liked it or feared it.

---

Later that afternoon...

It happened.

The van.

Just like in Bella’s story.

But it wasn’t her this time.

It was me.

Tyler’s truck spun across the parking lot, tires screaming, water spraying in wide arcs.

I didn’t even think.