Summary: After a lifetime of constant moves, a fresh start in the rainy town of Forks, Washington was supposed to be your chance at a stable senior year. But when a terrifying late night encounter pulls back the curtain on a hidden world of vampires, your quiet classmate,James, breaks his own rules to save you.
Warning(s): slight mention of sexual assault and blood.
The relentless drumbeat of rain against the windshield had been the soundtrack to the last three hours of the drive, a steady, rhythmic reminder that everything was changing.
Looking out the window, the landscape had shifted dramatically from the familiar concrete grids of urban survival to an oppressive, beautiful sea of deep emerald.
Tall, ancient douglas firs and hemlocks stood like sentinels along the winding two lane highway, their topmost branches vanishing into a thick, low hanging blanket of silver mist. The air outside looked heavy, and damp.
It was a stark contrast to the life left behind, a life measured in boxes, broken leases, and the constant, buzzing anxiety of the next eviction notice.
The story of how they arrived here, at the edge of the Pacific Northwest, was etched into every line of exhaustion and triumph on your mother's face.
She had been seventeen when her world fractured and reformed around a positive pregnancy test. Your father had been an eighteen year old ghost, vanishing into the background before the reality could even set in.
When she walked across the high school graduation stage, she wasn't just receiving a diploma. She was carrying the weight of a future that had suddenly narrowed. In the bleachers, your grandmother had held a one year old version of you, cheering for a young girl who had to grow up in an instant. College, aspirations, and the luxury of choosing a passion had been casualties of that survival mode.
Instead of lecture halls, her twenties were defined by a grueling rotation of odd jobs—diner shifts, retail inventory, late night cleaning gigs. Every cent was scraped together to secure a succession of cramped, drafty apartments.
But the math of poverty rarely adds up in favor of the tenant. Over time, the gap between income and rising rent widened. The notices on the door became a recurring nightmare. There were sudden moves in the middle of the night, belongings shoved into plastic trash bags, and the crushing humiliation of being told by landlords that your time was up.
You grew up learning to never unpack completely, to never get too attached to a bedroom view or a neighborhood kid. Loneliness became a protective armor.
Then came the turning point at age thirty. Sick of the instability, desperate to anchor both of your lives to something permanent, she made a bet on herself. She enrolled in a grueling nursing program.
It meant a decade of double shifts, studying by the glow of a cheap desk lamp while you did your homework beside her, and two more sudden relocations to follow affordable tuition and clinical placements. You were exhausted, burnt out by the constant upheaval, and cynical about the promise of a "better tomorrow."
She had burst into your room, the heavy bedroom door slamming against the wall, bearing a smile so radiant it seemed to defy the dingy apartment they were currently occupying.
The news wasn't just that they were moving again. It was that the cycle was finally over. She had secured a full time, stable position as a registered nurse at Forks Community Hospital. The sheer relief in her eyes washed away your practiced annoyance. You couldn't help but mirror her joy, holding her tight as the reality sank in. She had actually done it.
Now, the blue sedan crawled past the official town sign. Forks, Washington. Population: 3,120. The number felt suffocatingly small. In a town of three thousand people, privacy was a myth. Newcomers would be dissected under a microscope, their histories speculated on by locals who had lived here for generations.
Entering the local high school halfway through senior year was already a social death sentence. Doing it in a fishbowl like Forks magnified the dread tenfold. You felt like an outsider trespassing on a quiet, insular world.
The car turned off the main road, the tires crunching over gravel and wet earth, before idling in front of a modest structure.
A single story suburban house stood against the backdrop of the dark woods. Its exterior was a patchwork of eras: the left side was constructed of weathered red brick, while the right was clad in faded white vinyl siding. Dark, rectangular shutters flanked the windows, tracking the gray afternoon light. A low pitched roof sloped downward toward the left, extending into a covered carport that now shielded the rain slicked hood of the sedan.
The front yard was a wilderness of dampness. An unpaved dirt driveway rutted with shallow puddles, a patch of vibrant green grass lawn, and clusters of overgrown, leggy bushes interspersed with pink flowering shrubs that hugged the concrete foundation like a wild green collar. (x)
The engine sputtered and died, leaving only the sound of rain tapping against the roof. Your mother turned the key in the ignition, taking a deep, grounding breath before stepping out into the misty air. You followed, the damp cold immediately biting through your jacket.
She stood on the walkway, her hands shoved into her pockets, looking up at the house with a mixture of pride and quiet vulnerability. "What do you think?" she asked, her voice cutting through the quiet rustle of the trees.
You stared at the facade, the brick, the overgrown shrubs. A wave of deja vu hit you, sharp and bittersweet. "Looks like the one we lived in when I was eight," you murmured, remembering a brief, six month oasis of calm before another rent hike had pushed them out.
Your mother nodded, a small, knowing smile touching her lips as she fished the new house keys from her purse. "It needs a little work," she admitted, stepping up to the porch and inserting the key into the lock. The mechanism clicked open with a heavy, satisfying sound. "But it'll do."
As the front door swung inward, revealing the empty, waiting spaces of your new reality, the mist rolled silently across the lawn, swallowing the tire tracks behind you.
The blue sedan idled at the curb, its windshield wipers sweeping a rhythmic, steady path through the heavy mist.
Outside, the front of Forks High School looked exactly like a scene from an old photograph, muted and washed out by the perpetual gray sky.
A handful of teenagers loitered near the concrete steps, some leaning casually against a rusted metal railing with their hands shoved deep into the pockets of heavy jackets. They talked in tight, familiar circles, laughter occasionally breaking through the dull hum of the rain.
Your mom’s voice cut through the silence of the car, pulling your gaze away from the glass. She was looking at you with that familiar blend of maternal worry and quiet hope, her hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary.
"Yeah," you said, though the word felt heavy, catching slightly in your throat as you reached down to grab the strap of your backpack from the floorboard. You hauled the bag onto your lap.
"You know where the main office is?" she asked, her eyes scanning the unfamiliar brick buildings as if she could map the way out for you.
"I'll find it," you replied, forcing a confidence you didn't entirely feel. You popped the latch and pushed the heavy car door open, letting the damp, pine scented air rush into the warm interior.
The glass rolled down with a soft click, and you leaned slightly toward the open window, meeting her eyes. This was a massive day for her, too—her very first shift at the hospital.
"Good luck at work," you said, offering a genuine, soft smile to ease her tension.
Her expression softened, the lines of anxiety around her eyes smoothing out as a warm, proud smile broke across her face. "You too, honey."
You stepped back onto the wet asphalt. The sedan pulled away from the curb, its tires kicking up a light spray of water as it disappeared down the road, leaving you standing alone at the edge of the schoolyard.
Turning around, you faced the daunting facade of the building. The chatter from the steps seemed to quiet down just a fraction, the weight of a dozen curious glances shifting toward the new kid who had arrived in the middle of the term.
You adjusted the strap of your backpack, took one last, deep breath of the freezing Washington air, and took your first step forward.
"Here goes nothing," you whispered to yourself.
Finding the administrative office had been a masterclass in reading faded, water stained signs taped haphazardly to the cinderblock walls. The woman behind the desk had handed over your new schedule, a map of the campus that looked like a labyrinth, and a brief word of encouragement.
But out in the hallways, the confidence faded fast. The morning bell rang, and the vibrant, chaotic crowd began to thin out.
Teenagers dissolved into doorways, leaving the corridors echoing and increasingly empty. With every second that passed, your anxiety ticked upward.
You were officially going to be late on your very first day, and the numbers on the classroom doors were beginning to blur together.
You rounded a sharp corner, eyes entirely glued to the map, when you collided directly with someone else.
Books shifted, and you both stumbled back a step.
"Oh! I am so sorry," a soft, genuinely apologetic voice gasped.
You quickly shook your head and waved your hands in the air, trying to signal that no damage was done. "It's okay, really. We just didn't see each other coming around the bend."
The girl offered a warm, contrite smile. She had thick, neatly parted bangs that swept across one side of her forehead, framing a pair of white, oval rimmed glasses that gave her an intelligent, gentle look.
Her eyes swept over you, taking in the map and the obvious deer in the headlights expression.
"You're new," she stated. It wasn't a question. It was an absolute fact.
You blinked, a little taken aback by how easily she had pinned you. "Oh. Uh, yeah. How could you tell? Is it that obvious?"
The girl let out a quiet, melodic giggle. "Well, for one, you're clutching that freshly printed schedule like it's a lifeline. And two, Forks is tiny. I've never seen you before, and honestly, you're super pretty I definitely would have remembered if you went here."
A sudden heat rushed to your face, your cheeks tinting a distinct pink. You weren't used to such easy, casual compliments, especially from a total stranger in the middle of a hallway panic. ducking your head slightly, you offered a small, grateful smile. "Thanks... Uh, do you think you could actually help me find my first period? I'm completely turned around."
The girl’s face lit up instantly, her demeanor switching to pure cheer. "Oh! Of course I can."
She gently took the paper from your hands, her eyes scanning the grid. "Let's see... Mr. Macs, Economics. Oh, that's actually right this way. You're surprisingly close."
Turning on her heel, she took the lead, keeping your schedule in her hand as a guarantee she wouldn't lose you. She led you back down the very hallway she had just come from. At the far end of the corridor, a heavy wooden door stood slightly ajar.
"Here you are," she said, turning back to you with a bright smile.
But as she looked at you, her smile softened into something more empathetic. The nervous energy radiating off you was palpable. Your fingers were frantically fidgeting with the loose, frayed nylon straps of your backpack, and your breathing was shallow.
Without hesitation, she stepped closer and placed a reassuring, gentle hand on your shoulder. The warmth of the gesture caught you off guard. "Hey, it's going to be completely fine. We all get terrified on the first day. If it makes you feel any better, I checked your hours we have lunch and gym together later. I'll save you a seat at my table so you don't have to wander around the cafeteria alone, okay?"
A wave of profound relief washed over you. You took a deep, stabilizing breath, trying to calm the flutter in your chest, and nodded quickly. "Thank you. Seriously."
She gave your shoulder a final, supportive squeeze and turned to head toward her own class. Just as she took a few steps away, panic flared again. You didn't even know who your savior was.
"Wait!" you called out softly. "What's your name?"
She paused, looking back over her shoulder with an amused, apologetic expression. "Oh, wow, I completely forgot. My name's Angela."
You gave her a genuine, albeit small, smile in return. "I'm Y/N."
"Nice to meet you, Y/N," Angela said sweetly, her voice echoing softly in the empty hall.
As she walked away, disappearing around the corner, the suffocating weight in your chest lightened significantly. Against all odds, in a town where you expected to be a total outcast, you had made a friend before the first period even started.
Turning back to the classroom door, you gripped the brass handle. You pushed it open, but the old hinges betrayed you, emitting a distinct, high pitched creak that echoed through the quiet room. Instantly, the low murmur of the teacher's voice stopped, and a room full of unfamiliar faces turned in unison to stare at the new kid.
"Ah, you must be our new student," Mr. Macs deep, resonant voice boomed, cutting through the sudden silence of the room. He gave a welcoming wave of his hand, gesturing for you to step inside so you wouldn't be left stranded in the doorway.
You walked in slowly, your sneakers squeaking faintly against the polished linoleum floor. Standing awkwardly beside the teacher's heavy oak desk, you felt the collective gaze of nearly thirty pairs of eyes locking onto you.
"Everyone, this is our new student, Y/N," he announced, his tone practiced and authoritative.
A heavy, expectant silence hung in the room as the students just stared, some leaning back in their desks with curious squints, others whispering to their neighbors. The teacher cleared his throat, the sound sharp in the quiet room, breaking the trance.
"Okay, you can take a seat..." He trailed off, pulling a laminated seating chart toward him and running a finger down the rows. "At the back, by James."
The teacher looked up, his eyes scanning the rear of the classroom to locate the designated spot, but his gaze landed on a completely vacant desk. He let out a heavy, defeated sigh, muttering under his breath, "That boy's never here."
Shaking his head slightly, Mr. Macs pointed toward the back corner of the room instead. "The seat by the window, you can take that one."
You nodded gratefully, eager to escape the spotlight. You navigated the narrow aisles, the strap of your backpack clutching tightly to your shoulder as you made your way to the very back row.
When you reached the desk, you paused. You stared at the empty seat beside you for a moment, before sliding into your own chair.
Turning away from the curious glances of the classroom, you rested your chin in your hand and looked out the glass. The window looked out onto the dense, misty woods of Forks, the dark green branches of the ancient trees swaying gently in the wind, a quiet contrast to the nervous energy humming inside.
The cafeteria was a cacophony of clattering plastic trays, echoing laughter, and the ambient roar of hundreds of teenagers packed into one space.
You stood near the threshold, balancing your own tray in your hands. On it sat a rather pathetic looking ham and cheese sandwich on white bread, a slightly bruised red apple, and a small, cardboard carton of apple juice.
As you walked, you couldn't help but wonder why school cafeterias universally refused to hand out simple bottles of water, forcing everyone to choose between sugary juice or milk.
Pushing the thought aside, you scanned the sea of unfamiliar faces, looking for the one friendly anchor you had established this morning.
Just as the anxiety of standing alone began to creep back in, you spotted her. Angela stood up from a table near the center of the room, waving her hand overhead with a welcoming smile.
Relief washing over you, you navigated the maze of tables toward her group. The table was occupied by four other people, another girl and two boys. A couple of seats were open—one directly next to Angela and another beside an asian boy with dark hair. As you slid into the vacant seat, Angela immediately jumped into introductions to ease you into the fold.
"Guys, this is Y/N," Angela announced brightly, gesturing to you. "Y/N, this is Eric." She pointed to the boy beside you, who waved enthusiastically with a wide grin. "That's Mike," she continued, nodding toward a boy with spiked blonde hair and bright blue eyes who offered a friendly, brief greeting. "And lastly, Jessica." The final girl, who had a halo of bouncy, light brown wavy hair and sharp brown eyes, flashed a welcoming smile.
You gave a shy, muted wave, your cheeks warming slightly. The group didn't hesitate to pull you into their circle, with Jessica leading the charge.
"Hey," Jessica said, leaning forward to grab your attention over the noise. "So, what brings you all the way to Forks?"
You sat up a bit straighter, clearing your throat. "Oh, well, my mom actually just got a full time job over at the community hospital."
Eric leaned over the table instantly. "So your mom's a doctor? Wow... that's hot."
Before you could even process the comment, Mike reached over and slapped Eric's shoulder, giving him a look that clearly told him to shut up. You couldn't help but offer a mild correction. "A nurse, actually."
Jessica didn't let the momentum drop, her brow furrowing slightly in genuine curiosity. "But why Forks? I mean, I'm sure there are tons of massive hospitals out there she could have worked at instead."
Angela nudged Jessica’s arm under the table, giving her a look that silently begged her to stop judging your mom's life choices on day one, but Jessica kept going anyway, waving her fork dismissively. "What? It’s true. There are definitely more exciting places to live than Forks."
As Jessica continued to list the shortcomings of the rainy little town, her voice began to blur into background noise. Your attention drifted, your eyes naturally wandering to observe the rest of the cafeteria.
Your gaze locked onto the side doors that led out to the campus courtyard. The heavy doors swung open, and a group of teenagers walked into the room, instantly shifting the energy of the space without saying a single word.
Every single one of them was devastatingly beautiful. The kind of flawless, statuesque attractiveness that felt completely out of place in a small public high school. Their skin was uniformly pale, almost translucent against the dim cafeteria lighting.
Fascinated, you turned back to the table, interrupting Jessica’s monologue. "Hey... who are they?"
Jessica paused, her eyes tracking the direction of your gaze. "Oh, those are the Cullens," she said, her voice dropping into a tone reserved for local gossip. "They're Dr. and Mrs. Cullen's foster kids. They moved down here from Alaska a few years ago."
"They mostly keep to themselves," Angela added quietly, her tone much softer and less judgmental than Jessica's.
Jessica leaned in closer, lowering her voice further. "Yeah, because they're all together. Like, together together."
A flicker of confusion and slight discomfort crossed your face at the phrasing. Jessica took that as her cue to break down the family tree as the group moved toward their usual table in the far corner of the room.
"The blonde girl is Rosalie, and the big, dark haired guy is Emmett. They're, like a thing. I'm not even sure that's legal."
Eric cut in, rolling his eyes slightly. "Jess, they're not actually related. They're just foster kids."
"Yeah, but they live in the same house. It's just weird," Jessica insisted. You couldn't deny that the dynamic sounded incredibly unusual for a household of teenagers.
Jessica kept going, her eyes darting across the room. "And then the little dark haired girl is Alice. She’s really werid."
You looked over at Alice, but instead of finding her weird, you couldn't help but admire her striking, pixie like features and how effortlessly chic her outfit looked. She moved with an almost unnatural grace.
"She's with Jasper, the blonde one who looks like he's in pain," Jessica whispered. "Dr. Cullen is like this foster dad slash matchmaker."
Angela let out a quiet, dry chuckle from beside you. "Maybe he'll adopt me next," she murmured with a smirk, causing a small, genuine smile to tug at the corners of your lips.
Angela looked back toward the line and pointed out the next member of the family, who was walking slightly behind the others. "That's Edward Cullen."
Before Angela could elaborate, Jessica hijacked the explanation again. "He's totally gorgeous, obviously, but apparently, nobody here is good enough for him." She looked down, suddenly picking at her food with her fork. "Like I care, you know?"
You raised a skeptical eyebrow at her defensive tone, noting the obvious lingering resentment.
Just as you thought the headcount was complete, the side door opened one final time. You found yourself wondering exactly how many teenagers lived under Dr. Cullen's roof, making a mental note to ask your mom if she had met this mysterious doctor at the hospital yet.
"Who's he?" you asked, nodding toward the final person to enter the room.
Both girls turned their heads instantly.
"Oh, that's James," Angela said, her voice taking on a slightly different, more curious note. "Out of all the Cullens, he's the one who barely ever shows up to school."
As he stepped fully into the light of the cafeteria, you found yourself completely transfixed. He carried himself with an entirely different energy than the rest of his family.
His hair was a striking, bright bleach blonde, contrasting sharply with his dark, intense eyes. He possessed a remarkably sharp, narrow nose and a perfectly chiseled jawline that looked like it had been carved from marble. His lips were surprisingly full, set into a hard, unreadable line. He exuded a fierce, killer stare that practically screamed that he was completely unapproachable.
Unfortunately, your fascination got the better of you. You stared just a second too long.
As James walked past your table to catch up with his siblings, his dark eyes shifted, locking directly onto yours. The brief eye contact felt incredibly intense, a sudden jolt of electricity passing through the space between you. Just as quickly as it happened, he looked away, his expression remaining cold and detached as he continued toward his family's table.
You snapped your head back around to face your friends, your heart suddenly hammering violently against your ribs. You didn't know if the sudden rush of adrenaline was due to the sheer intensity of his gaze or the simple embarrassment of getting caught staring, but your hands were slightly trembling. You tried to force your breathing to slow down, tuning back into the conversation so no one would notice your distress.
"He doesn't talk to anyone outside of his family," Jessica was saying, completely oblivious to your mini panic attack. "Anyone who has ever tried to strike up a conversation either gets a single nod or a terrifying stare. He's like a ghost or something. He's here for a day, and then he completely vanishes for a week."
Angela nodded in agreement, a playful glint in her eye. "He's mysterious," she said, wiggling her fingers in the air in a mock spooky gesture.
The ridiculous movement broke the tension, causing a wave of laughter to ripple through the table. Your laugh was much softer than the others, your mind still lingering on the memory of those dark eyes.
As the conversation naturally drifted to a completely different topic, Angela paused, her brow furrowing as she looked around the immediate area. "Hey... where did Eric and Mike go?"
You glanced over at the empty seats beside you. The two boys were completely gone, their trays cleared. You simply shrugged, offering a small smile. They had likely slipped away quietly, having absolutely no desire to sit through a girl talk.
By the time the final bell rang, echoing loudly through the damp, concrete corridors, a quiet sense of relief had settled over you. Navigating the social landscape of a brand new school was exhausting, but as you gathered your things, you realized you had managed a minor miracle.
You shared at least one class with each of the people you had met at lunch. You had survived gym class alongside Angela, Jessica, and Mike, finding comfort in their familiar banter amid the squeak of sneakers on the polished gym floor.
Later, you walked into math only to find Eric sitting near the front. Math had never been your strong suit, so when he immediately offered to help you study whenever you got stuck, you felt a genuine weight lift from your shoulders.
Walking down the steps of the school, you watched the other students laugh and make plans for the weekend. For the first time in a long time, you found yourself fiercely hoping that this move was permanent. You were so tired of being the new kid, tired of packing your life into cardboard boxes just as you were beginning to feel settled. You genuinely liked this strange, eclectic group of friends and their wildly different personalities. You wanted to keep them. You didn't want to become a ghost to them, disappearing into another new town before the school year even ended.
The familiar blue sedan was already idling at the curb when you reached the street. Your mom rolled down the window, ushering you to hurry inside; she was currently on her lunch break and had a strict deadline to get back to her shift at the hospital.
As you shut the car door and buckled your seatbelt, the sheer adrenaline that had carried you through the day finally ebbed away, leaving your limbs feeling heavy and completely exhausted. You leaned your cheek against the cool, damp glass of the passenger window, watching the familiar blurred wall of dark green pines rush past.
"So, how was it?" your mom asked, her eyes darting between the slick road and your tired face, her voice laced with that familiar, hopeful anxiety.
Staring out at the misty scenery, a genuine smile touched your lips. "It was good. Pretty sure I actually made some friends today."
The relief that washed over her face was instantaneous, her smile widening so much it chased away the tired lines around her eyes. "Really? Oh, that’s wonderful, honey! Once we get the house a little more settled and the boxes unpacked, you should definitely invite them over."
You nodded softly against the glass, letting out a quiet, comfortable, "Yeah, okay. I'd like that."
The car crunched over the wet dirt driveway, coming to a halt in front of the split brick suburban house. Your mom kept the engine running, turning to give you a quick, apologetic look. "Okay, there’s a TV dinner waiting for you in the freezer. I’m going to be home late tonight, so please make sure you get to bed at a decent hour, alright?"
You opened the door, stepping out into the cool air, and let out a soft, amused snicker at her familiar routine. "Ok, I will. Thank you. Good luck with the rest of your shift."
With a final wave, she backed out of the driveway, the sedan disappearing down the misty road. You turned and stepped inside, the heavy front door clicking shut behind you. The house was quiet, filled with the stark, echoey stillness of a home that was still half unboxed. Towers of cardboard boxes stood like shadows in the living room, waiting to be dealt with.
In the kitchen, you retrieved your dinner from the freezer and popped it into the microwave. A few minutes later, you were sitting at the counter with a steaming tray of classic comfort food. chicken nuggets, macaroni and cheese, and a side of sweet corn. It was exactly the kind of meal she used to make for you when you were younger, simple and nostalgic, and it tasted exactly like safety.
After eating, you migrated to the living room, flipping on the television and letting the background noise wash over you.
For a couple of hours, you successfully procrastinated, deliberately ignoring the small stack of schoolwork sitting in your backpack.
Fortunately, a few of your teachers had been kind enough to grant you a temporary pass on the daily assignments since it was your very first day, so the workload wasn't entirely overwhelming.
Eventually, the warmth of the house and the lingering exhaustion caught up to you. You dragged yourself down the hall to the bathroom, letting a hot shower wash away the tension of the day. Creeping into your bedroom, you changed into your favorite, oversized pajamas (x) and finally sat down at the small desk to finish the remaining pages of your homework.
When the last pencil stroke was done, you clicked off the desk lamp, plunging the room into shadow. You crawled into bed, the sheets feeling crisp and cool against your skin. After plugging your phone into the wall charger, you rolled onto your back and stared up at the dark ceiling.
The quiet rhythm of the rain outside tapped gently against your windowpane, a steady, hypnotic lullaby. You lay there in the stillness, waiting for sleep to finally take over, your mind drifting through images of misty woods, crowded cafeterias, and a pair of intense, dark eyes before everything finally faded to black.
A soft, heavy thud cut through your deep sleep as a pillow connected directly with your face. You groaned loudly, blindly throwing your hands up to shield yourself as the muffled voice of your mother broke the morning quiet.
"Y/N, get up! I don't want either of us being late today," she commanded. Before you could even vocalize a whined protest, she grabbed you firmly by the arms and hauled you upward. Your back hit the wooden headboard with a dull thud, your eyelids still glued shut against the morning light.
"Now, Y/N!" she added emphatically, turning on her heel and letting the bedroom door click shut behind her.
Letting out one final, dramatic groan, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and reluctantly swung your legs out of bed. Moving at a completely lazy, glacial pace, you padded across the cold floor toward the cardboard boxes that still held most of your wardrobe, rummaging through them to piece together an outfit. (x)
The morning blurred by, and before you knew it, Your mom's was idling at the school's drop off zone again. As you headed toward the main building, navigating the damp courtyard, a familiar voice called out.
Eric caught sight of you from down the path and quickened his pace, his sneakers squeaking on the wet pavement as he caught up. With easy, sudden familiarity, he wrapped a casual arm around your shoulder to greet you.
"Day two! How are you feeling?" he asked brightly.
You looked down at the ground, letting out an awkward, quiet laugh and shrugging your shoulders. "Fine, I guess. Definitely not as nervous as yesterday."
"That's what I like to hear," Eric said, dropping his arm from your shoulder with a supportive grin. "I'll see you at lunch, okay?" You nodded, and he took off in the opposite direction toward his morning building.
You made your way to your economics classroom, taking pride in the fact that you weren't late this time. Walking through the open door, you thankfully avoided the dramatic, head turning spectacle of yesterday.
Only a few students were scattered around the desks so far. You navigated the aisle to the back corner, sliding into your assigned seat next to the window, and watched the rest of the class slowly file in.
The morning bell rang, and the teacher moved to close the heavy wooden door, immediately launching into a lecture about the week's curriculum while beginning to take attendance. Just as he was halfway through the roster, the door clicked open again.
The bleach blonde boy from the cafeteria walked in. His pale skin seemed almost luminous against the drab classroom walls, and a pair of white, wired earbuds hung loosely around his neck. The teacher paused, looking over the top of his glasses.
"Mr. Cullen. Glad to see you finally making an appearance," the teacher remarked, his tone dry.
James didn't offer a vocal excuse. He simply gave a tight, singular nod of his head, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets as he began walking down the aisle. He moved with an effortless, striking posture, his grace completely mesmerizing.
You couldn't keep your eyes off him as he traveled toward the back of the room. Directly toward the empty desk beside yours.
You blinked twice, a sudden realization hitting you like a physical jolt. You had been so overwhelmed the day before that you hadn't connected the dots. The perpetually absent "James" the teacher had complained about wasn't just some random student; it was him.
You mentally scolded yourself. It was a incredibly common name, but seeing him actually sit down in the plastic chair right next to you made your heart skip a beat.
Forcing yourself to look back at the whiteboard, you tried to appear completely casual. Beside you, James leaned back in his chair. He reached up, pulling one earbud into his ear, and cast a swift, calculating glance over you before turning his attention toward the front of the room, pretending to listen to the lecture.
It didn't take long for the teacher's voice to fade into white noise. Placing your chin in the palm of your hand, you stared blankly at the notes on the board, your mind completely zoning out into a daydream, acutely aware of the quiet, intense presence sitting mere inches away.
When the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the period, the sudden burst of chatter and shuffling papers snapped you back to reality. You quickly began packing your books and notebooks into your bag.
Standing up, you rested your heavy backpack on top of the desk to pull the zipper shut. You slid the strap over your shoulder and took a blind step backward to exit the row.
You instantly bumped hard into something solid.
Gasping softly, you spun around. It felt like walking into a brick wall. You found yourself looking up—the height difference between you was suddenly very noticeable—straight into James’s dark eyes. He was glaring down at you, his expression etched with cold irritation.
"Watch it," he muttered. His tone was deep, quiet, and sharp enough to cut through the noise of the classroom.
Before you could even utter an apology, he brushed past you, his shoulder narrowly missing yours as he swept out of the classroom. You stood frozen by your desk, completely stunned. Your heart was hammering violently against your chest, the intensity of the brief encounter leaving you breathless.
As you watched his blonde hair disappear into the crowded hallway, a single, baffling question echoed in your mind. Jessica said he doesn't talk to anyone besides his family. So why did he just speak to me?
When lunch finally arrived, you navigated the bustling cafeteria and slid into the exact same spot you had occupied the day before, unofficially claiming it as your own.
Across the table, Mike and Eric were already locked in a heated, passionate debate over which of two girls in their third period class was "hotter," gesturing wildly with their forks. Jessica sat next to them, looking thoroughly annoyed and rolling her eyes at their antics every few minutes.
While the boys were distracted, Angela leaned in and whispered some quick context to you. Apparently, Jessica and Mike had a notoriously tumultuous, off and on relationship. Right now, they were strictly broken up, but judging by the sharp, lingering glances Jessica kept throwing Mike's way, it was obvious someone still carried a torch.
You remained mostly quiet, content to listen to the shifting tides of their conversations. Angela eagerly began detailing her latest plans for the school newspaper, with Eric interjecting every now and then with layout ideas, since he worked as her photographer and co-editor.
Inevitably, your eyes drifted. The Cullens were already seated at their designated table in the far corner of the room, looking like a painting of beautiful outcasts. You tried your absolute best not to look, instructing your brain to focus on your food, but your frequent glances didn't escape Jessica’s sharp eyes.
A knowing smirk spread across her face. "Which one?" she asked loudly.
The sudden question caused the table to instantly quiet down. You looked up from your side salad, blinking in utter confusion. "Huh? What do you mean?"
Jessica playfully rolled her eyes, leaning over the table. "Oh, come on. I see you eyeing the Cullen table. The question isn't if you're looking, it's which one."
Eric and Mike immediately paused their debate, glancing over at the Cullen family, who were currently minding their own business. Angela looked at you in genuine shock, clearly having been too absorbed in her newspaper talk to notice your wandering eyes. She gave your arm a playful, gentle slap.
You vigorously shook your head, the heat instantly rising to your cheeks as you tried to deny it. "No, no, I wasn't—"
"Yes, you were," Jessica interrupted, her smile widening with triumph. "So, who is it? Is it Edward?"
A surprised, genuine laugh escaped your throat. "What? No, definitely not."
Angela chimed in next, her eyes scanning your face to read your expression. "James?" she guessed softly. "I mean, they’re the only two brothers who aren't completely taken, so there really isn't much of a choice."
You let out a heavy sigh, your heart immediately starting to hammer against your ribs at how easily they had guessed the exact person you found completely captivating. Desperate for a distraction, you instinctively looked back over your shoulder toward their corner table.
James was already staring directly at your group. More specifically, his dark, intense eyes were locked right onto you.
Instead of snapping your head around in embarrassment like you did the day before, something inside you held fast. You maintained the eye contact, refusing to back down.
While his pale face remained entirely blank and unreadable, you were certain your own expression betrayed a mix of confusion and deep uncertainty.
After a long, agonizingly tense moment, he finally broke the connection, looking down. For a split second, the ghost of a faint smirk seemed to touch the corner of his plump lips, vanishing so quickly you wondered if the dim cafeteria lighting was playing tricks on you.
You slowly turned back to your table, only to find all four of your friends staring at you with their eyebrows practically raised into their hairlines.
"What?" you asked, defensively clutching your apple juice.
Mike shrugged, shifting uncomfortably in his plastic chair. "Oh, I don't know, but whatever weird stare down that was just made me super uncomfortable."
"I thought it was kind of romantic," Angela countered dreamily, her eyes wide behind her oval glasses. "The sheer intensity of your gazes locked onto each other across a crowded room? It's like something out of a novel."
Both you and Jessica turned to stare at Angela in surprise, while Eric rolled his eyes dramatically. "Ang, you read way too many books." He turned his attention back to you, leaning forward. "But yeah, you are definitely crushing on the guy."
Jessica’s eyes drifted back to the corner of the room, watching as James’s dark eyes flicked over toward your table one last time before he became fully absorbed in whatever animated story Alice was telling the rest of the siblings.
"You never know, though," Jessica murmured, her cynical tone briefly softening as she looked back at you. "He could actually like you back."
You let out a quiet, self deprecating scoff at the suggestion. The sheer thought of someone as devastatingly attractive, mysterious, and elite as James Cullen taking an actual interest in a chronically uprooted, ordinary new kid like you felt completely absurd.
"Right," you muttered, dismissing the idea entirely.
Sensing your discomfort, Angela smoothly steered the conversation toward an upcoming school event, and a brand new topic began. But as the table dissolved back into laughter and gossip, your mind remained firmly stuck on the brief, intense heat of his glare, and the unexplained mystery of his sudden smile.
The remainder of the school day passed in a blur of fluorescent lights and shifting classrooms. The final period seemed to drag on indefinitely, the minutes ticking away with agonizing slowness, but eventually, the bell rang and liberated everyone.
Any relief you felt, however, had vanished ten minutes prior when your phone vibrated in your pocket. It was a text from your mom. A minor emergency at the hospital meant she couldn’t leave to pick you up. You were left to either figure out the complex local bus routes, ask one of your new friends for a ride, or walk.
Your choice was made instantly. The thought of being trapped on a suffocatingly loud school bus, guessing at which unfamiliar street corner was yours, made your stomach twist. And you were far too proud and too new to ask Angela or Jessica to go out of their way for you. So, you decided to walk.
The trek began quietly. Your sneakers rhythmically hit the concrete, occasionally transitioning to the crunch of gravel as you navigated the shoulder of the winding road.
You jammed your earbuds into your ears, turning on a soft, acoustic track by Chloe Moriondo. The gentle, melancholy melody was exactly what you needed to block out the gray Washington chill. It was deeply calming perhaps a little too calming, because it completely dulled your awareness of your surroundings.
You didn't hear the low rumble of the engine approaching from behind.
Before you could even register the sound, a beat up jeep packed with teenage boys roared past you. They leaned out the windows, hooting and hollering into the quiet afternoon air, and a heavy, freezing wave of liquid suddenly collided directly with your upper body.
You gasped loudly, the shock of the cold instantly robbing the air from your lungs. You ripped your earbuds out, water dripping from your hair as the sound of the boys' raucous laughter echoed down the road. The jeep sped away, vanishing around a bend in the trees.
"You jerks!" you screamed after them, though your voice was entirely swallowed by the vast, damp forest.
Shaking violently, you looked down at yourself. The liquid didn't smell like soda, so you desperately hoped it was just melted ice water from a cooler, but that provided zero comfort.
Your jacket and shirt were completely soaked through, clinging to your skin like ice packs. Your house was still miles away, your earbuds were sputtering and ruined from the moisture, and the biting wind was turning the dampness into pure agony. Hugging your arms tightly across your chest in a futile attempt to preserve a shred of body heat, you forced your legs to keep moving, fighting back the burning tears of frustration that threatened to spill over.
Then, the low, smooth hum of another vehicle approached.
You heard the tires slow down against the gravel beside you. Tensing up, you turned your head defensively. A sleek, polished car had pulled over, the driver's side door already swinging open.
Stepping out into the mist was Alice Cullen, her short pixie haircut perfectly framing her small, striking face. In the passenger seat, Jasper sat perfectly still, his eyes fixed straight ahead with that characteristic, intense expression.
"Oh my gosh, are you okay?" Alice gasped, her voice full of immediate, genuine concern as she hurried toward you.
You looked down at the muddy gravel, utterly mortified to be caught in such a pathetic, miserable state by one of the most elite girls at school. You simply shook your head, unable to fake a confident response as a violent shiver racked your frame.
Alice let out a sympathetic sigh. Without a trace of hesitation, she reached out and began rubbing her hands briskly up and down your soaked arms, trying to generate some friction and warmth. She turned back toward the car, her voice projecting clearly. "James, get the blanket from the trunk! Quick."
Your entire body stiffened. No. Please, no. Through the fog of your misery, you heard the car door click open and shut, followed by the solid thud of the trunk opening. You kept your eyes locked strictly on your wet shoes, completely humiliated at the prospect of James seeing you disheveled, freezing, and crying on the side of a deserted road.
A sudden, immense wall of warmth enveloped your shoulders. The heavy, dark wool blanket was draped over you, instantly blocking out the piercing wind.
You looked up slightly as a figure stepped into your line of sight. It was James. He stood close, his towering height shielding you from the worst of the breeze. His expression wasn't the harsh, irritated glare from the classroom; though his dark eyes and sharp features were still incredibly intimidating, there was a quiet, intense gravity to his look now.
His voice dropped to a quiet register that felt entirely private. "You good?"
You stared up at him, your brain briefly short circuiting. Him and his two word sentences. Despite everything, you managed a brief, tight nod, pulling the thick blanket tighter around your chest. "I guess so. Thanks."
James gave a singular, slow nod in return, stepping back slightly. Alice watched the quiet interaction between the two of you, a small, knowing glint appearing in her eyes before she focused back on your shivering form.
"We're dropping you home," Alice insisted, her tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. "I am not leaving you out here to freeze in the middle of nowhere."
"Are you sure?" you whispered, your voice trembling. "I don't want to be a bother."
Alice flashed a bright, radiant smile that completely warmed the gloomy afternoon. "I don't mind at all. Come on, let's get you out of the cold."
She gently guided you by the elbow, opening the rear door behind the driver's seat. You slid into the immaculate, warm interior of the car, wrapping the blanket securely around yourself.
A second later, the opposite rear door opened, and James slid into the seat beside you, sitting directly behind Jasper. The sheer presence of him in the enclosed space made your heart rate spike all over again.
Alice hopped into the driver's seat, shifting the car into drive. The heater immediately began blasting warm air through the vents. She glanced at you through the rearview mirror, her eyes bright and welcoming.
"Now," Alice said softly, the car smoothly accelerating down the road. "Where do you live?"
The sleek vehicle glided to a smooth halt at the edge of the unpaved dirt driveway, the engine idling with a quiet, powerful hum.
Through the rain speckled windows, you could feel the silent, collective gaze of the three Cullens shifting toward the modest, single story house. Alice, Jasper, and James casually took in the split exterior.
The weathered red brick on one side, the faded white vinyl siding on the other, and the wild, overgrown clusters of pink flowering shrubs that clung to the foundation. In the dim, misty afternoon light, the house looked small, a little worn, and entirely ordinary compared to the flawless car you were currently sitting in.
Carefully shifting the heavy wool blanket around your shoulders, you opened the door and stepped out into the damp, cool air. The contrast was instant, the Washington breeze biting at your wet hair, but the thick fabric kept the worst of the chill at bay.
Alice rolled down her window with a soft click, the warm air from the interior spilling out into the gray afternoon.
"Thank you," you said sincerely, leaning slightly toward the car. "Seriously, thank you both so much."
Alice flashed another one of her bright, effortlessly charming smiles. "Anytime."
You began to step back onto the gravel, ready to offer a final wave, when the sudden weight on your shoulders reminded you of your borrow. "Oh, wait," you stammered, your hands flying to the edge of the fabric to pull it off.
"It's totally fine, keep it," Alice interjected smoothly, waving a dismissive, graceful hand. "We have plenty more where that came from. Besides, you're still freezing. And hey, if you ever need a ride, just look for us. I'm happy to help."
Before you could fully process the unexpected generosity, her smile widened. "I'll see you at school."
With a cheerful wave, she rolled the window back up, sealing the car's quiet warmth away from the elements. You offered a small wave in return as Alice shifted into reverse, smoothly backing the car out of the driveway and onto the main road.
You stood on the wet grass, watching the vehicle glide away into the silver fog, but as it turned, your eyes inadvertently caught the rear window. James was sitting perfectly still, his sharp jawline set, his dark eyes locked directly onto you through the glass. He didn't blink, and he didn't look away until the car finally rounded the corner and disappeared behind a thick wall of ancient pine trees.
You froze for a second, a strange flutter rising in your chest. Was he staring the entire time? you wondered, a mix of bewilderment and self consciousness wash over you. Does the guy just have a serious staring problem, or is it just me?
Shaking your head to clear the intrusive thoughts, you turned toward the front porch. You let out a long, heavy sigh, the exhausting events of your first two days completely catching up to your limbs.
Unlocking the front door, you stepped into the quiet, half unpacked house, letting the heavy wood click shut behind you. At this point, the mysteries of the Cullen family didn't matter. All you really wanted was for the weekend to arrive so you could finally sink into your bed and disappear.
Night eventually bled into the late hours, and the house remained entirely quiet. Your mom still wasn’t home from her grueling shift, but she had thoughtfully left a premade sandwich in the fridge for your dinner.
With your homework already completed and a hot shower washing away the remnants of the day's chill, you found yourself with nothing but time.
You lay stretched out across your bed, the soft glow of your phone illuminating the dark room as you mindlessly scrolled through various apps, opening and closing them in a state of absolute boredom. With nothing left to keep your attention, you decided it was best to just call it a night.
You plugged your phone into the charger, pulled back the neat layers of your comforter, and were just settling your head against the pillows when a sudden, sharp sound echoed through the quiet house.
You froze, your heart giving a sudden, nervous thud against your ribs. You glanced at the digital clock on your nightstand. It was exactly 10:00 PM. In a tiny, unfamiliar town like Forks, a late night visitor was distinctively unnerving.
Swallowing hard, you crept out of your bedroom and tiptoed down the hallway. You approached the front door and peered cautiously through the small peephole, bracing yourself. The porch was bathed in the amber glow of the outdoor light, but there was absolutely no one there. The driveway and the front lawn were completely deserted.
Confused, your eyes drifted downward. Sitting right in the center of the welcome mat was a small white box with a folded piece of paper resting on top.
You unlocked the door, cracked it open just enough to quickly snatch the parcel, and immediately shut and locked the deadbolt. Heart racing with a mix of adrenaline and curiosity, you hurried back to the safety of your bedroom, tossing the package onto the mattress before sitting down beside it.
Carefully, you lifted the lid of the small white box. Tucked inside was a brand new pair of white, wired earbuds. An exact replacement for the ones that had been ruined by the water earlier that afternoon.
You stared at them, completely baffled. How could anyone have known? Desperate for an explanation, you snatched up the folded note and flipped it open. Written in clean, elegant handwriting was a single, cryptic sentence.
I know you need new ones. - C.Y
You stared at the paper, your mind racing through every face you had met since arriving in Forks. C.Y? The initials didn't match anyone you knew. None of your new friends at the lunch table had those initials, and neither did Alice, Jasper or James. The mystery only fueled your unease.
Moving quickly, you stood up and walked over to the window, where the heavy curtains were already pulled back a fraction. You pressed your face near the glass, scanning the dark perimeter of your yard, the shadows of the overgrown shrubs, and the edge of the unpaved driveway, hoping to catch a glimpse of a retreating figure or taillights. But the misty night was completely still.
Let out a heavy sigh, you reached out and firmly pulled the curtains completely shut, blocking out the dark woods so no one could see into your room.
But out in the distance, entirely cloaked by the dense, pitch black shadows of the ancient forest, a figure stood perfectly still.
The bleach blonde hair was barely visible in the gloom, his golden eyes fixed intently on your house. From his vantage point, his vision easily pierced the distance. He had watched the front door click open, seeing you lean down to retrieve the package. He had tracked you returning to your room, watching through the gap in the fabric as you sat on your bed, your face twisting into a mask of pure confusion as you read the note. He saw the exact moment you bolted to the glass, searching the darkness for him, before you finally shut the curtains and cut off the view.
As the fabric settled into place, a faint, genuine smile graced his lips. A soft, gentle expression that absolutely no one at Forks High School had ever seen on his characteristically cold face.
Alice had already dropped hints, her strange insights offering a glimpse into who you were, and the potential place you might hold within their insular family dynamic.
But even without his sister's quiet warnings, something deep within his own quiet existence had already recognized a pull toward you. Yet, the realization brought a heavy wave of conflict. He wasn't sure he wanted to draw you into his complicated, secretive world. He had spent years maintaining a strict, impenetrable boundary between his family and the rest of the town, acting like an unapproachable, cold hearted outcast to keep everyone at a safe distance, even though his actual nature held far more depth than anyone gave him credit for.
He lingered in the damp brush for one more long, silent moment, his gaze fixed on the glowing outline of your window frame. Then, with a silent breath, he turned and vanished, his figure streaking through the dark, misty woods like a phantom, leaving nothing but the sighing wind behind.
The weekend finally arrived, bringing a brief reprieve from the overwhelming fog of the school week. The last three days of the weekday had settled into a quiet, predictable rhythm.
The Cullens hadn't shown up at all, their usual table in the corner of the cafeteria remaining conspicuously empty, but your own social circle had steadily solidified. You now had the phone numbers of your four new friends saved in your contacts. The paralyzing shyness that had gripped you on your first day was beginning to erode, allowing glimpses of your real personality to peek through during classroom transitions and locker visits.
Today, on a surprisingly bright, not so gloomy Saturday, the group had invited you out to explore. The first stop was a local staple called the Carver Cafe, a cozy spot filled with the rich aroma of fresh coffee and sizzling breakfast plates.
While the majority of the table opted for standard morning fare, Mike raised a few eyebrows by casually ordering a greasy midday burger. Once the plates were cleared, the girls eagerly took the lead, guiding the group through a row of small retail storefronts and a charming, cramped little bookstore that you mentally promised to revisit when you had more time.
The boys animatedly described a nearby beach they promised to show you on the next trip, but for today, the group piled back into Mike’s car to head to the local theater.
The main event was Iron Man, a choice heavily championed by you and the boys. Angela didn't seem to mind the blockbuster pick, and while Jessica openly voiced her lack of interest, she still tagged along without too much complaint. You offered a quiet compromise, promising the girls they could completely dictate the itinerary for the next outing.
By the time you all spilled out of the theater doors, the afternoon sun was beginning to dim, casting long, amber shadows across the pavement.
Climbing back into the car, Eric suggested a quick stop for ice cream, a motion that was instantly and unanimously carried.
The tiny parlor was bright and nostalgic. Angela immediately opted for cookies and cream, Jessica chose cookie dough, Mike went with rocky road, and Eric picked a caramel swirl. You ordered mint chocolate chip—your favorite, albeit highly controversial, flavor.
The group took a slow, casual walk around the block, balancing the melting scoops on sugar cones. Standing by the car, listening to the easy banter and laughing at a string of ridiculous inside jokes, a sudden wave of overwhelming happiness hit you.
For the first time in as long as you could remember, the crushing weight of being the permanent outsider dissolved completely. You found yourself fiercely wishing the night wouldn't end.
But the darkness eventually caught up. By the time the last of the ice cream was finished, the sun had fully dipped below the horizon, replaced by the artificial hum of streetlamps and storefront signs turning on.
As everyone began walking back toward Mike’s car to head home, you lingered on the sidewalk. You explained that you wanted to quickly duck back into the small bookstore across the street before it locked its doors for the night.
The group paused, their expressions shifting to mild concern as they asked if you were absolutely sure about walking back later. You offered a reassuring nod, telling them to make sure they drove safe, a sentiment they quickly echoed before pulling away from the curb.
You watched the tail lights disappear down the main road until the street was entirely quiet. Turning on your heel, you crossed the asphalt toward the corner store. Your hand lifted, your fingers just grazing the cold metal of the door handle, when a sudden, sharp yelp and the distinct rustle of heavy fabric cut through the silence. Then, absolute stillness.
Your hand dropped from the knob. You turned your head toward the sound, which seemed to originate from the mouth of a narrow, unlit alleyway running alongside the building. Curiosity overriding your better judgment, you took a cautious step toward the shadows.
Deep within the gloom of the alley, two silhouettes were barely visible against the brick. One figure was pinned flush against the wall, the other looming directly in front of them. From a distance, it looked like a private, intense embrace—almost as if the standing person was pressing their face into the other's neck. But as you took a instinctive step backward to give them privacy, your sneaker caught on a loose piece of gravel. You stumbled, the sharp crunch of stone echoing loudly in the narrow space.
The noise instantly caught the attention of the figure against the wall. The silhouette snapped its head toward you, holding the other person upright for a fraction of a second before carelessly dropping them to the ground like a sack of dead weight. Your eyes furrowed, your brain struggling to process the bizarre sight of the slumped body on the pavement.
Then, the standing figure let out a low, terrifying hiss.
Before you could even turn to run, the shape lunged forward at an entirely unhuman, dizzying speed. It was a man with long, pale blonde hair tied tightly back, his features sharp and feral. In the dim light filtering into the alley, his eyes gleamed a distinct, unnatural crimson red. His upper lip was curled back, revealing elongated, dangerously sharp canines that extended far past normal proportions, and the skin around his mouth was smeared with a dark, unmistakable slick of blood.
A terrified whimper escaped your throat as a cruel smirk spread across his face. In a fraction of a second, his cold hand clamped around your neck—not with enough crushing force to completely cut off your air, but with a terrifying, solid strength that pinned you violently against the brick wall, mirroring exactly what he had done to his previous victim.
Through the blur of your panic, your eyes darted to the pavement. The man lying there appeared to be in his early thirties, his face a deathly, translucent pale. From two deep, clean puncture wounds on his neck, a steady stream of dark red was staining his collar.
The reality of the situation hit you with a sickening jolt, and you completely freaked out. A loud, piercing scream tore from your lungs as your body thrashed against his grip, your hands desperately clawing at his iron wrist to break free. Hot tears spilled over your eyelashes, blurring your vision as the man slowly licked his bloody lips, entirely unfazed by your struggle.
You shook your head violently, your voice cracking into a desperate, raw plea. "Please... please, no."
The man merely chuckled, a low, grating sound that vibrated against your skin. He leaned his head down, pressing his mouth directly against the shell of your ear. "I love it when they beg," he murmured.
He gave a sharp, agonizing tug on your earlobe, forcing your head to tilt away and exposing the line of your throat. He dragged his lips down your jawline to your neck, one of his large hands shifting upward to firmly cover your mouth, smothering your cries into a muffled sob. You could feel the freezing, razor sharp tips of his elongated teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck, deliberately teasing, delaying the strike.
Right as his jaw opened to bite down, a massive force crashed into him from the side. The impact was loud and incredibly violent, the sheer velocity sending the man flying backward into the darkness of the alley.
The sudden release sent you crumbling to the damp ground, your hands scraping against the rough gravel as you gasped for air.
Ahead of you, a brutal, lightning fast struggle erupted. The movement was a chaotic blur of shifting figures, the speed so intense your eyes could barely track the motion. The air was filled with the sound of tearing fabric and heavy thuds until, with a sudden, sickening wrench, the rescuer violently ripped the attacker's head completely from his shoulders.
Still pressed against the cold ground, your hands braced behind you, you frantically scrambled backward in pure fright, trying to distance yourself from the carnage. The dark silhouette of the person who had saved you turned slowly, taking a single, deliberate step toward you.
As they stepped into the faint amber glow of the streetlamp, the features became clear. It was the bleach blonde boy who sat directly next to you in first period.
James stood over you, his breathing heavy, his chest rising and falling in sharp movements. You could only stare up at him in a state of absolute, paralyzing confusion.
A terrible thought gripped your mind. He was just like the man who had attacked you. Had he only intervened to claim you for himself?
His eyes, usually a dark, unreadable shade, were now a vibrant, polished liquid gold. As you watched, frozen, you could see his elongated canines slowly retracting, slipping back into his gums until his teeth looked entirely normal again.
You pushed yourself back even further against the wall, your breath hitching. James took a slow, deliberate step forward, carefully dropping down onto his knees to bring himself directly to eye level with you.
The cold, impenetrable glare he usually wore at school was entirely gone, replaced by a soft, intense look of concern. When he spoke, the characteristic dark, deep edge to his voice had vanished, replaced by a tone that sounded remarkably soft, almost boyish.
"Hey, hey... it's okay," he murmured softly, his hands hovering in the air as if he wanted to reach out but didn't want to startle you further. His gold eyes scanned your tear stained cheeks, a heavy, pained expression crossing his features.
He took a sharp breath, his jaw tightening. If Alice hadn't experienced one of her sudden, inexplicable premonitions, and if he hadn't pushed himself to sprint across town to get here exactly when he did, the outcome would have been catastrophic. He shook his head slightly, forcefully dismissing the dark thought from his mind.
Slowly, he extended a palm toward you.
You stared at his hand, your chest heaving as you tried to weigh the safety of the gesture. You didn't know what he was, or how he had just done what he did.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Y/N," he said, his voice steady and quiet, carrying the weight of a solemn vow. "I promise."
Your eyes flicked between his golden gaze and his open palm. Slowly, hesitantly, you slid your trembling hand into his. His fingers closed around yours. They were incredibly cold, like marble, but his grip was remarkably gentle. He took his time rising to his feet, carefully pulling you up with him so you wouldn't lose your balance or panic.
Your gaze inadvertently drifted past his shoulder, locking onto the unmoving shape of the long haired man on the pavement. "Is he... is he dead?" you whispered.
James let out a quiet sigh, his fingers instinctively sliding into his jacket pockets—the familiar habit instantly returning. "No," he said, shaking his head slightly.
You looked back at him, your brow furrowing in disbelief. "But you literally took his head off."
"Yes," James admitted, his tone turning clinical as he looked down the alleyway. "But creatures like that... you need fire if you actually want to kill them permanently." He turned on his heel, beginning to walk out of the dark space toward the main street, his guarded, distant demeanor rapidly clicking back into place.
"Creatures?" you echoed, your legs moving automatically to follow his fast pace. He possessed significantly longer legs, and he was completely ignoring your question now, his eyes scanning the empty street to ensure no one had witnessed the commotion. "Hey!" You reached out, your fingers tightly gripping the fabric of his jacket sleeve.
He stopped instantly, turning his torso to face you.
"What are you?" you demanded, your eyes searching his golden irises back and forth, desperate for an answer that made sense.
James’s jaw clenched tightly. He cast one final, sweeping glance around the deserted, dark street corner to confirm the coast was entirely clear before stepping directly into your personal space. The movement was so sudden you were nearly chest to chest, his towering frame completely blocking out the ambient light of the town.
"Hold on," he muttered under his breath.
Before you could voice a single protest or ask what he meant, he effortlessly scooped you up into a secure, bridal style carry. In the next heartbeat, he took off.
The sheer speed was terrifying. You instinctively wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, burying your face securely into the crook of his shoulder to shield yourself from the biting wind. Peeking over his shoulder, the world outside was a dizzying, incomprehensible blur of dark green pine trees, passing streetlamps, and the faint, glowing windows of distant houses. The wind whipped your hair wildly around your face, the sheer velocity making it impossible to track their movement.
A few seconds later, the rushing motion came to an abrupt, perfectly silent halt.
You blinked, looking around in utter shock. You were standing inside the familiar layout of your own bedroom, the heavy wooden door firmly closed behind you. He had brought you straight home, bypassing the front door entirely.
James gently lowered you onto the edge of your unmade bed, stepping back a couple of inches. His expression wasn't nervous, but there was a distinct, uncharacteristic layer of uncertainty in his golden eyes as he watched you.
You sat up straight, gripping the fabric of your comforter, and fixed him with a stern, demanding stare. "James. Explain. Right now."
His golden eyes locked onto yours, his features settling back into a dull, guarded mask. "It's hard to explain," he said flatly.
You let out a sharp, incredulous scoff, completely discarding his attempt to shut down the conversation. "Yeah, well, I literally almost just became someone's dinner out there, so you better start talking and tell me what the fuck is going on."
"That guy out there... he was a vampire," James began, his voice flat, testing the weight of the word in the quiet bedroom.
You let out a sharp, sarcastic scoff, crossing your arms tightly. "No shit."
James entirely ignored the comment, his jaw tightening slightly as he pressed on. "I'm a vampire, too."
You stared at him blankly, as if he were actively insulting your intelligence. "Wow. I totally didn't figure that out after watching you rip a guy's head off and run at a hundred miles an hour."
His jaw clenched at your sarcasm, but his gold eyes remained fixed on yours. "Vampires aren't just a myth local to Forks. We are scattered all over the world. Many of us are born with specific, supernatural gifts. Abilities that are entirely unique to the individual."
"So, what are yours?" you interrupted, leaning slightly forward, your curiosity finally overtaking your fear.
Instead of answering verbally, James stepped back a few inches and held his palm upward. You watched in absolute fascination as a dull, ethereal blue glow began to emanate from his skin, hovering a few inches above his palm. The light began to shift and solidify, swirling until it perfectly mimicked the shape of an apple. The moment his cold fingers closed around the makeshift object, the blue light vanished, leaving behind a perfectly solid, vibrant red piece of fruit.
He extended his hand, offering it to you. Your face twisted into utter shock as you took it from him. Slowly, you took a small bite. It was crisp, sweet, and undeniably real.
"I have the ability to manipulate and transmute matter at an atomic level," James explained, watching your reaction closely. "My siblings are all inherently different. Alice can foresee the future before it happens. Edward can hear the thoughts of everyone around him. Jasper can sense and actively manipulate the emotions of any room he walks into. We all inherit something different when we transform."
You stood up abruptly, setting the apple down on your comforter as the staggering weight of reality began to truly settle in. James took a slow step closer to you, his flawless features contorting into an expression that looked remarkably like genuine nervousness.
"But there is a coven called the Volturi," he continued, his tone dropping to a dark, cautious register. "They are the oldest, largest, and most powerful coven in existence. They act as the law in our world, enforcing strict rules to maintain control and ensure our secrets stay hidden. And their most absolute law is that no human can ever know about our existence. If they find out what you know, they will kill you."
He stared down at you, the heavy silence hanging in the room as he waited for you to scream, panic, or run. But the sheer terror of everything you had experienced over the last hour finally broke through your defenses. Your gaze dropped to the carpet. You swallowed hard, your knees suddenly feeling too weak to support your weight, and sank back down onto the edge of the mattress.
You breathed in deeply, your chest heaving as a single, hot tear escaped your eye and traced a path down your cheek.
James noticed instantly. Dropping his guarded posture, he knelt down on the floor by your legs, bringing himself to your level. With a remarkably gentle touch, the pads of his cold fingers lightly brushed the stray tear from your cheek.
"I'm not going to let anything happen to you," he murmured fiercely.
You looked up, your eyes searching his golden gaze. "Why, though? We barely even know each other."
James stared into your eyes, the depth of his expression completely unreadable. If his heart were still capable of beating, he was certain it would be hammering violently against his ribs right now. "Because... I have a feeling you're going to mean a lot to me."
You blinked, your brow furrowing in utter confusion. "Huh?"
Seeing your bewildered expression, the tension finally broke. James shook his head at you, and a small, genuine smile made its way across his lips.
You found yourself staring. He was incredibly handsome when the cold, stony mask faded. The subtle lines at the corners of his mouth looked almost like dimples, instantly softening his fierce features into something sweet and approachable.
But the moment passed quickly, and his face returned to its neutral, guarded baseline. "I'll figure something out, okay? Don't spiral."
You offered a small, hesitant nod. He slid onto the edge of the bed, sitting quietly beside you as you both stared ahead into the dim litted room, processing the impossible reality of the night.
After a long, quiet moment, the lingering anxiety about your family forced its way to the surface. "James?"
He let out a quiet hum, letting you know he was entirely focused on you.
"Am I safe here? I just... I don't want my mom dragged into any of this if I'm genuinely in danger."
James looked toward the closed bedroom door, his brow furrowing as he calculated the risks. "Stay here tonight. Keep the windows locked. I'll come back to get you tomorrow morning, and we'll take this to my family. We'll figure out a way to keep you both safe, alright?"
You nodded, trusting the solid certainty in his voice. He rose to his feet in a fluid, silent motion, walking toward your bedroom door.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he said, giving a brief wave.
Before you could even whisper a reply, he vanished. A sudden, violent gust of wind whipped through the room as he sped out the door, the sheer force of his movement momentarily lifting your hair into the air before it settled softly back onto your shoulders, leaving the room entirely still once again.
Sunday arrived with a startling suddenness. The moment your eyes blinked open in the dim morning light, a faint rush of air swept through your bedroom, and James was suddenly standing near the foot of your bed.
You let out a sharp yelp, throwing your hands up in pure shock as your heart hammered violently against your ribs. "Dude, what the hell?" you whisper yelled, casting a panicked glance toward the door, acutely aware that your mom was still asleep in her room just down the hallway.
James stood there entirely unbothered, his dark golden eyes quietly taking in your disheveled, morning appearance. "I heard you wake up," he stated simply, as if appearing out of thin air in someone's bedroom at dawn was a perfectly normal social habit.
You squinted your eyes at him, the heavy fog of sleep still clouding your brain. "Yeah, I'm going to need you to elaborate on that." You rubbed your face with both hands, trying to shake off the grogginess.
James pointed a pale, elegant finger toward his ear. "My senses are heightened. I could hear the exact moment the rhythm of your breathing shifted from asleep to awake."
You nodded slowly, the terrifying reality of his vampire nature finally clicking into place for the morning.
Standing up, you padded over to the cardboard boxes and the closet, which now held the majority of your wardrobe. You rummaged through the shelves, pulling out a pair of jeans and a comfortable sweater (x) before tossing them onto the unmade mattress. Turning back around, you realized James was still standing in the exact same spot, watching you silently.
You raised your eyebrows at him in a silent demand for privacy. He merely blinked, a look of genuine confusion crossing his sharp features.
"What?" he asked blankly.
"Uh, leave? I need to change my clothes," you said, gesturing toward the door.
An uncharacteristic flash of awkwardness crossed his face, and he gave a quick, tight nod. "Right. Of course. I'll be waiting outside."
"Great," you murmured, giving him a thumbs up and a tight, fake smile that you knew his sharp eyes instantly recognized as pure sarcasm.
Once you were dressed and stepped out into the crisp morning air, you found him waiting beside a sleek car.
The exact same vehicle Alice had used to rescue you. The drive was fast and completely silent, the car handling the winding, tree lined roads with effortless grace until he turned off onto an unpaved path hidden deep within the thick, ancient forest.
The car came to a halt, and you stepped out, your jaw dropping slightly in absolute awe. The Cullen house was a stunning masterpiece of modern architecture. It stood two stories high, nestled seamlessly among the towering pines, its facade constructed almost entirely of massive glass windows that reflected the silver, misty sky.
As you stood frozen on the gravel, completely distracted by the sheer beauty of the place, you felt the solid, incredibly cold pressure of James’s hand gently resting against the curve of your waist, silently guiding you forward toward the front steps. You didn't object to the touch, the coolness of his palm sending a sudden flare of warmth straight to your chest.
Focused entirely on the house ahead, you completely missed the faint, knowing smirk that played across his lips; his sharp ears had instantly picked up the sudden, erratic spike in your heart rate the moment his fingers brushed against your clothes.
Stepping through the front door, the warm, expansive interior opened up before you, but the initial comfort was instantly eclipsed by sheer intimidation. The entire Cullen family was gathered in the spacious living area, their pale, flawless faces turning in perfect unison to look at you.
You swallowed hard, praying the nervous sound wasn't incredibly loud in the quiet room.
James stepped slightly ahead of you, his hand dropping from your waist as he gestured toward two people you hadn't seen before. "Y/N, this is Carlisle and his wife, Esme. And you already know the rest," he added, waving a dismissive hand toward his siblings, who were scattered across the sleek furniture.
You didn't bother asking how he knew you already recognized them. You guessed that during those frantic cafeteria gossip sessions with Jessica and Angela, their supernatural hearing had picked up every single word.
That explained the intense glances James had thrown your way.
Esme stepped forward immediately, a remarkably warm, maternal smile gracing her beautiful features. Instead of offering a stiff, formal handshake, she stepped directly into your space and pulled you into a gentle, welcoming embrace. You hugged her back, entirely surprised by how soft and genuinely kind she felt despite the marble like chill of her skin.
Carlisle stepped up next, offering a firm, polite handshake. His golden eyes were kind and filled with a calm, professional authority. "Your mother works at the hospital, correct? Nurse L/N?"
You nodded quickly. "Yes, she just started."
Carlisle smiled warmly. "She is a lovely lady, very dedicated. It's a pleasure to have her on the team."
You offered a quiet, grateful thank you, the tension in your shoulders easing just a fraction. But James wasn't interested in small talk. He stepped into the center of the room, his posture instantly turning rigid as he brought the conversation back to the terrifying reality at hand.
"As nice as this all is, we have a massive problem," James stated, his voice dropping into a dark, urgent register. "She knows what we are. The guy from last night... we are at serious risk with the Volturi if word gets out."
Carlisle turned to face his adoptive son, his expression turning solemn and incredibly heavy. "Yes, but you know the rules, James. You know exactly what has to be done to maintain the secret."
You looked back and forth between them, your chest tightening at the cryptic, dangerous undertone of their words.
You could see the frustration visibly boiling over in James. His chiseled jaw was clenched so tightly the muscle leaped, his golden eyes turned incredibly dark and intense, and the faint blue veins on his pale neck stood out under the skin.
"So what? She either dies or she's forced to become one of us?" James yelled out, the sheer force of his frustration echoing loudly off the massive glass windows.
Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline, a cold spike of panic hitting your stomach. Esme immediately stepped in, her expression softening with deep empathy as she placed a calming, gentle hand on James’s rigid shoulder. "James, calm down. The Volturi don't know anything yet. But at some point in the future, you may need to come to a definitive decision regarding her safety."
James looked between Carlisle and Esme, his usual cold, unreadable mask completely shattering to reveal a flash of raw panic. "I didn't kill him," he muttered, referring to the long haired vampire from the alleyway. "He survived the encounter. He probably went straight to them to report what happened."
Carlisle shook his head calmly, trying to anchor his son's spiraling thoughts. "You don't know that for certain, James. We can't assume the worst yet."
James let out a rough, frustrated grunt, raising his pale hands to rub at his face harshly. You watched him from the edge of the room, your concern completely overriding your own fear as you witnessed the sheer agony in his posture.
"I—I can't go through this again, okay?" James whispered, his voice cracking slightly with a vulnerability that caught you completely off guard.
Esme’s face softened into a look of profound heartbreak. "James... nothing is going to happen to this time. I promise you."
You stood frozen, parsing his words. This time? The implication hung heavy in the air. Something identical to this had happened in his past and whoever it was hadn't survived the consequences.
You looked closer at his face, and though his expression was hard to read, his eyes looked slightly red, a faint hint of moisture clinging to his eyelashes from how harshly he had been rubbing his eyes.
Before you could say anything, James suddenly moved. His cold fingers wrapped firmly around your wrist, and without a word to his family, he began dragging you toward the massive staircase.
You managed to throw a quick, awkward wave of hello and goodbye to his siblings as you were pulled up the steps, Alice offering a small, encouraging nod in return.
He led you down a long corridor and pushed open the door to his bedroom, closing it firmly behind you. The space was meticulously clean and surprisingly warm. A neatly made bed sat against one wall, surrounded by a stunning collection of various musical instruments. An enormous wooden bookcase dominated the opposite wall, packed to the brim with leather bound books that looked older than your grandmother.
James walked over to the edge of his mattress and sat down heavily, resting his elbows on his knees as he glared fiercely at the floorboards, completely lost in his own dark thoughts.
You remained standing near the closed door, watching him quietly for a long moment before stepping forward. "James?" you called out softly.
He let out a long, heavy sigh, slowly lifting his head to look at you. His golden eyes were bloodshot, the intense anger and panic still swirling within them. Deciding to cast aside your hesitation, you walked over and did exactly what he had done for you the night before. You dropped to your knees directly in front of him, bringing yourself to eye level.
James’s breath hitched sharply at the sudden proximity, his posture freezing.
You reached out, placing your hands gently on his knees, looking up into his fierce face. With a slow, deliberate movement, the pad of your thumb reached up and wiped away the faint trace of a tear from his pale cheek.
"Look, I don't know what happened last time," you said softly, your voice steady and comforting. "And I know we aren't close enough for you to tell me secrets about your past. But what I do know is that you aren't the cold hearted asshole I thought you were."
You gently rubbed the fabric of his jeans with your thumb, offering a soothing rhythm. "When I first saw you in the cafeteria, you seemed incredibly intimidating and scary. But... in a really hot way." You instantly cringed internally, your cheeks burning a bright pink at the accidental confession that you found him devastatingly attractive.
A sudden, small crack appeared in his stony expression. A faint, genuine smile broke across his lips as he dropped his gaze to the floor, clearly amused by your blunt honesty.
"But when Alice showed up on the road on Tuesday," you continued, your confidence returning as you watched his smile, "and you went out of your way to get that blanket for me, I saw that you can actually be incredibly kind. You aren't just all..." You dropped your voice into a deep, exaggerated, mocking growl. "'Watch it.'"
James let out a soft, genuine chuckle at the impression, the heavy tension completely draining from his shoulders.
"And yesterday in that alley," you murmured, looking directly into his golden irises, "I saw genuine concern in your eyes. You don't really know me, but I can tell that you care."
He hummed softly, his gaze dropping down to watch your thumb as it continued to caress his knee. Then, he looked back up at your face, a playful glint returning to his eyes. "You forgot one thing."
Your eyes locked onto his. "What?"
"The earbuds," James said quietly.
You stared at him for a long beat, the puzzle pieces suddenly assembling themselves in your mind. "Wait... the note was signed C.Y. Are you... C.Y?"
He gave a slight, remarkably shy nod of his head. You stopped the movement of your hand on his knee in sheer bewilderment, but before you could pull away, James reached down, his large, cold palm sliding over the top of your hand to hold it firmly in place against his leg.
"My real name is Chao Yufan," he stated softly, the foreign syllables rolling off his tongue with a beautiful, natural rhythm. "James is just an English name I adopted because it's easier for people here to pronounce."
You stared up at him, a genuine, admiring smile spreading across your face as you took in the hidden depth of his identity. "Well... I think both names suit you perfectly."
You eased yourself up from your knees, sliding onto the mattress to sit directly beside him on the edge of the bed. "Look, you don't have to tell me anything you're uncomfortable with. But... can I ask you just one personal question?"
He turned his head to look at you, appearing slightly hesitant before offering a slow nod. "Go ahead."
"How old are you actually?"
James let out a heavy sigh, instantly averting his gaze to look out the massive window, clearly reluctant to give an honest answer.
You let out a dramatic, loud gasp, shifting your body across the mattress to force yourself back into his direct line of sight.
"Oh my god," you teased, your eyes wide. "Are you like... super old? Ancient?"
He looked thoroughly offended by the accusation, his jaw dropping slightly. "What? No!"
You leaned in significantly closer, intentionally invading his personal space until your face was mere inches from his. "Oh yeah? Then why did you turn away from me, huh? What are you hiding?"
A massive, brilliant smile—wider and more radiant than any expression you had ever seen on his face—broke across his features. Leaning down slightly to bring his face even closer to yours, his golden eyes danced with amusement. "I was born on October 14, 1735."
He leaned back just an inch, a smug look on his face as he waited to take in your inevitable reaction.
You sat frozen, staring at him with wide, unblinking eyes as you desperately tried to do the mental math in your head. "Wait... so that means you're... 291 years old?"
He nodded slowly, completely satisfied with your calculation.
Your jaw literally dropped. "You are almost three hundred years old?!"
James turned his face away slightly, a look of mock annoyance crossing his features though it was done in a way that was completely charming and attractive. You knew him well enough by now to tell he wasn't genuinely bothered.
"Okay, okay," you said, forcing your tone to turn somewhat serious as you nudged his shoulder. "How old were you when you were actually turned into a vampire?"
He turned back to face you, his intense golden eyes slowly tracing a path down your face and back up, a deliberate look that instantly sent a massive swarm of butterflies fluttering wildly through your stomach. Seeing your breath hitch, that familiar, arrogant smirk returned to his lips. "I was twenty."
You smirked right back, masking your nervousness with sheer audacity. "Well... you look absolutely amazing for a twenty year old. Seriously, what is your skincare routine?"
His smirk instantly fell at your ridiculous question, a look of dry amusement replacing it. "You would know. You seem to like staring at me a lot."
Your own smirk vanished, a hot blush rushing back to your ears. "I was not staring at you."
James leaned in close again, his cold breath brushing against your cheek as his voice dropped to a low, teasing purr. "Yeah? Because every time I looked over, it felt like you were practically drooling."
Your mouth opened widely in utter outrage. "Oh my god, I was absolutely not drooling!"
James leaned down further, his face moving until your lips were a mere fraction of an inch apart. The air between you felt incredibly charged, the playful banter melting away into a sudden, heavy wave of tension. His golden eyes flicked down to your mouth, a dangerous, confident smirk playing at the corners of his lips.
"So... if I were to kiss you right now, you're trying to tell me you wouldn't feel anything for me at all?" he challenged softly.
You crossed your arms defensively over your chest, holding his intense gaze. "Absolutely not," you lied, trying to keep your voice from trembling.
He let out a low, melodic hum, his large, cold hand smoothly sliding around your waist, the solid pressure of his fingers anchoring you to him.
Your heart instantly began to hammer violently against your ribs, the rapid thudding echoing clearly in the quiet room. His face closed the remaining distance, his lips brushing against yours as he breathed out his final words.
"Your heart says otherwise."
You rolled your eyes, but the resistance completely dissolved. Reaching up, your fingers tightly gripped the fabric of his shirt, and you pulled him firmly toward you. "Shut up."
His lips crashed into yours with a sudden, fierce intensity. His hands tightened around your waist, his immense strength effortlessly pulling your body flush against his solid chest. The cool marble of his lips sent a rush of pure electricity straight down your spine. Your hands traveled upward from his chest, sliding along the curve of his neck before your fingers tangled deeply into the soft, bleach blonde hair at the nape of his neck.
A low, deep groan escaped his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips as he deepened the kiss, his posture straightening slightly and lifting you onto your tiptoes to match his height.
You were the first to gently pull away, your lips lightly grazing his as you both caught your breath. A beautiful, genuine smile broke across his face, and you found yourself smiling right back, your eyes locked entirely onto his.
"Fucking knew it," he murmured softly, a triumphant laugh in his voice.
Before you could even process the words, he leaned down and began attacking your face with soft, playful kisses across your cheek, making you giggle as he carefully reached up to move a stray strand of hair away from your eyes, admiring the bright, flushed color of your cheeks. His cold palm settled gently against your jawline, holding you close.
You looked up at him, a sudden question surfacing. "Wait... was it because of what my friends said in the cafeteria? Did you hear them?"
James leaned his head back slightly so he could look down at you, an amused smirk returning. "Oh, you mean when your loud friend Mike said that the sheer intensity of our starings made him feel super uncomfortable?" he asked, perfectly recalling Mike's exact words.
You let out a quiet, embarrassed groan, shutting your eyes tightly as you wished the floor would swallow you whole. "Oh my god, you heard everything."
Opening your eyes, you looked up into his soft, golden gaze, needing to know one last thing. "Okay, but... when did you actually start feeling things for me? For real."
James’s thumb gently caressed the smooth skin of your cheek, his eyes turning incredibly soft and filled with a profound, quiet certainty. "Since the first moment I saw you."
A massive wave of warmth fluttered through your stomach at the confession. He had definitely been a master at hiding his emotions, considering he had looked like he wanted to murder absolutely everyone.
"And I am going to make absolutely sure that nothing ever happens to you," he promised fiercely, the dangerous edge returning to his voice for a fraction of a second to solidify the vow.
He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead before wrapping his long arms around you, pulling you securely into a tight, protective hug against his chest as the rain began to patter softly against the glass outside.
Sidenote: I fear there maybe some plot holes. But I really wanted to write a twilight related fic with James and seeing him blonde!! I just had to.
janainaart
romaincrisis
origamiaround
titsay
jbbartram-illu
