Archive of Our Own

Your head whips around at the first call for order from the hallway, breaking from the rhythm to push further into the room, your gait completely changed as you break away from the crowd.

The rest of the crowd hadn't caught on yet, still hollering and clapping to another song, but you kept your head down, flawlessly mingling between the lunch-goers as if you didn't bring a tsunami of sweat and adrenaline down upon them all. An adult spots you breaking off from the second floor, knowing very well the only person who could gather a crowd this large before noon. She calls your last name over the banister.

You don't seem to notice, now breaking past the normal lunch crowd to his lonely corner and—Edward braces himself just in time as you push past two loitering lower classmen to slide onto his bench. He tries to hold his breath, but the heat of your thigh is hard to miss with the way your shorts stretch high over the muscle as it presses almost completely to his own. He wonders if you were sent to punish him. Alice smiles darkly at the both of you, picking up her phone for a less-than discreet picture.

“Act natural or I’ll throw bricks at your house.” You deadpan and wink when Alice sniggers behind her hand, flicking the other playfully towards you just as a woman approaches toting a radio and overflowing keyring. Edward eyes the space between the two of you and how her presence seems to roll over you like water off a duck's back.

You pull an apple out of your decorated letterman and prepare to take a bite—

"With me, (L/n). You know the drill." Sandra Simpson, guidance counselor currently on lunch duty, and currently very over seeing your last name embroidered across your back everywhere she turned.

He has to admit the shock and confusion on your face is convincing, and you already look plenty comfortable next to him, all things considering.

"What are you talking about, miss?" Your pretty nose scrunches in barely contained irritation, ready to stomp your foot to escape, but not quite yet, and he appreciates the restraint and finds that most days it's his favorite thing about you.

The older woman waves her fingers in a 'come hither' motion while she signals a varsity athlete off of a tabletop. You remain unaffected, sweeping your jacket off in a wave of perfume and draping it across the table to keep your arms from the cold. You fold them and use one to support your head while you ignore the motion, bored with this conversation already.

"I'm not doing it today, sweetheart, let's go.'"

"What did I do?" Your delivery is flat this time, not as pitchy to really put the 'G' in gaslight as you finally bite your apple. Your foot bounces under the table. A sophomore girl is caught mid-cartwheel a few tables down and another chip bag explodes in lieu of fireworks.

"Oh, so you don't see the foolishness around me right now? Am I imagining that?" She's losing her patience and he can see in Alice's mind—you, home and alone for the first Friday in weeks, and Edward decides immediately that can never come to pass.

"I didn't—" He cuts in before you can implicate yourself, smoothly leaning around you to address the admin and swooning internally when your perfume wafts from your hair and burns his lungs. He carefully articulates when he says your name for the first time.

"Ms. Simpson, (Y/n)'s been sitting with us for twenty minutes, she couldn’t have led them here," Edward says, high and even with eyes so clear and golden, he could have told her she could fly and she’d’ve believed him. He senses a change in tonight's forecast, but he can't bring himself to look just yet.

“I think it was (B/n).” Alice helpfully provides as you stare each other down. You take another bite to drive your innocence home and blink boredly as she purses her lips, the decision already made as she makes an unimpressed noise.

"Next time I see you here, it better be during your lunch, (L/n)." She warns before another crowd passes the double doors, jogging in her pumps to catch up.

You spin so fast to face him that the ends of your hair whip him in the face, but he doesn't mind the sting as long as you keep looking at him like that.

"So, you guys are coming to shake some ass tonight, right?"

He finds out later that Rosalie had been keeping you to herself all this time. That you'd made quick friends the semester before and hang out occasionally in between whatever his family does when they aren't haunting public schools. The lack of surveillance initially offends his sister, who figured if he had anything to say, it'd have come months ago. He asks about you and she scoffs, making a note to text you about it later.

He'd declined, by the way, when you'd asked him to come to the game. It was still early autumn. If he left at the right time he might find a shady spot — He said no to the after-party invitation too, though Alice had gotten the details of the party from you before the period ended. You didn’t seem all that turned off by his indifference either, instead stroking a soft hand over his arm and thank him for his help before leaving him to sit with Alice. She suggests place settings as she goes.

Its hours after the game has ended when he has the gall to seek you out, you're calling your mom from a payphone outside the stadium while your friends wait in a clown car on the curb, swearing across your heart to spend the entire night at (F/n)’s, you promise while twining your hands and ankles behind your back and imagining all the things you were going to get into far away from anyone's home. He imagines what talking to you on the phone would be like, would you also cross your ankles to relieve any giddiness? He can't see himself flustering you, but the idea makes him crack a smile.

Edward knows what the nightlife can be, better than most, he likes to think. So, being safe, he trails the overstuffed sedan further and further from home until you are too many towns down and dangled by your ankles by some loud little boys who don't even know your last name. They could at least keep your hair off their shoes.

It makes him seethe with something dark and green for the first time in a while, but he has the decency not to ruin your night— lets you finish the keg and wipe your chin with your shirt before they set you right side up again, the cheering crowd hitting an all-time high before dying again to music and conversation.

You stand there for a second, swaying in place like you’d forgotten what you were doing. Someone claps you on the shoulder, and when you look up, he thinks you're too drunk to notice him through the crowded living room and blinding lights, but you do, (e/c) honing in on widened gold as you push through more drunk party-goers to approach him. He can smell the spiked punch. It practically rolls off your heated skin in waves, and there are bits of confetti tangled in your hair. His hand unthinkingly reaches for the blue bit near your eye and does his best to pretend he didn't put it in his pocket.

You smile dumbly at him, losing your train of thought again before rebooting, batting your lashes, and pinching the shirt Alice told him you’d like between your shiny nails.

“This is really nice, is it boyfriend material?”

His initial response is to frown and deflect the question, but it makes your brows scrunch in a pout at the soft rejection. That fraction of displeasure on your face at his response makes something in him explode.

In that second, he isn’t dead and damned, cursed to sin and steal and kill—

He is just someone who likes a pretty girl. A pretty girl who invited him out, and probably wouldn't do it again if he screwed this up. You would need a ride home, anyway.

Edward has never hated himself more for what he's about to do. He leans closer and flashes his pretty teeth and you mirror it, forgiving the snub entirely.

“Sorry, I don’t believe in love at first sight. Can you do that again?”

Talking with you is easy, Edward thinks. He can see how you could befriend even Rosalie by the way you speak, your body moving animatedly as you make something he’s witnessed before sound like the word of God. You’re the life of the party, and no matter how often he pulls you away for more private chats or dances, someone or something always comes creeping up to bask in your light along with him.

When you ask something of him, he can’t help but relent, saying things he knows he shouldn’t, but you're just so warm and light he can’t help but let the words flow freely. He does as much as he can to keep you talking, bringing your drinks and snacks upon request and at some point, a thc battery that loosens you up that much more, the last stress of the night falling from your shoulders in a serene moment before you cough violently, nearly throwing yourself off the bathroom counter he'd convinced you to steady your legs on.

“Is this boyfriend material?” You ask again, this time in the quiet of the backyard after you’d snuck out in another bid for privacy as you sway slowly in each other’s arms. He’d thought you’d fallen asleep when your arms slipped from his shoulders, but your breathing isn’t even enough. You aren’t far off, though.

Edward knows he shouldn’t be here, he should be at home chasing a deer, or something, not here, holding an absolutely blasted human girl in his arms, who is very soft and warm and feeling more and more like home-

He stops the slow circles you’d been turning, and when you lift your head to ask what's wrong, he can’t help but admire the way your hazy eyes shine in the moonlight, makeup lost somewhere on the third couch of the night. Your hair sticks to your skin in some spots, nothing near the state you'd had it in this morning, but he thinks he's seen nothing more beautiful as his hand leaves your waist to cradle your face, your eyes sliding shut in contentment before focusing again, this time on his lips.

While he would love to indulge you, your stomach gurgles once in warning before he’s aiming you away from his shoes and over the deck. You thank him later, but for now, you silently wipe your mouth and stare at the soiled grass as if it’d asked for a sample.

Your eyes are unfocused again, but this time they’re glassy with embarrassment as you wait for the earth to swallow you whole. Edward doesn’t catch your discomfort at first, instead just guiding your shaky form over to the patio set a few feet behind you. It’s the way you sit that sets him off, stiff as a board, and then all at once on yourself as you sniff pathetically.

“We lost, by the way.” You croak. He can hear you already from where he stands, but he pulls up a chair to listen quietly as you confess your sins into the muggy night air. At some point, you sit up and reach for his hand where it rests on his knee, his unbeating heart soaring when you are unfazed by it's coolness as you watch the stars.

He thinks you’re too harsh on yourself, that the calm you feel in a room full of people looking your way is well deserved because you are kind, and smart, and the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. He hadn’t realized he’d been talking to himself until the text came through on his watch.

ALICE : that was great! maybe look at her next time? 😋

He turns at the waist to find you knocked out against the metal chair, head against your shoulder at a harsh angle and features softened in a way he’s never seen by sleep and the lilac of the early morning sky.

Edward knows you won't remember tonight, but he still tucks you under plenty of covers and kisses your hair before the sunlight can reach your window.