New project, if you want to support(To continue with the chapters and improve the quality of the language) or read advanced chapters please follow me on: patreon.com/Jayjayempi
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Author's Notes: Please be patient with this chapter, Nate won't always be like this, believe me when I say it's for the good of the plot, I hope you don't get disappointed, I also wanted to ask, would you prefer me to upload chapters like this? One by one every so often or would you prefer me to upload two or three at once?
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English class with Mr. Mason promised nothing more than basic instructions and some attempts at forced participation from the teacher. Nate had already assumed this as he walked silently from the cafeteria to the classroom, still processing the faces he'd memorized during lunch.
The Cullens.
He didn't know their names. He barely had time to investigate. He only knew Edward—and had heard something about a certain Rosalie. The only thing he knew for sure was that there was something strange about them. Something that went beyond their beauty or their aloofness.
Upon arriving in the classroom, he immediately noticed he didn't recognize many faces. Some students looked up with the usual curiosity a new boy inspires; there were a few interested glances from some of his classmates, but they soon returned to their conversations.
Everything seemed to indicate that I would have another normal class.
Except one look stopped him.
At the back of the classroom, by the window, a figure sat alone, seemingly existing in a different dimension than the rest. There she was. I'd seen her before, at the Cullens' table. It was impossible to forget her.
Her short, dark hair fell in uneven strands that seemed to have been styled rather than cut. Every line, every curve, every shadow framed her face with pinpoint precision. She had large, dark amber eyes, with a sparkle that seemed to hold secrets in a state of repose. Her nose was delicate, her lips thin but defined, and that expression… almost dreamy.
But it was her body that puzzled him most. She was small—probably no taller than his shoulder—but her figure was strikingly feminine. Soft curves in just the right places defined hips and a feline stance that wasn't at all casual. She was light and agile. Like a dancer. Or a predator.
Nate stopped unwillingly as if his body refused to keep walking. A tingling sensation ran down his spine. He wasn't used to feeling this way. Disarmed. He'd felt attraction before, sure, but this was different. Irrational. Messy. As if something inside him had been ripped out and he hadn't realized it until now.
The door slammed shut behind him, snapping him out of his trance.
"Mr. Winter, is that correct?" Mr. Mason's calm, kind voice boomed from his desk.
Nate nodded quickly and walked over, handing him his time sheet to sign. His hand trembled slightly, and although the gesture was subtle, it felt amplified. Mr. Mason didn't seem to notice.
"Very well, welcome. There's a free seat next to Miss Cullen," he said, absentmindedly flipping through some papers. "You can sit there."
Cullen.
That surname startled him, although he tried not to show it.
With no choice but to follow logic, Nate headed toward the back of the classroom. His steps were slower than usual. He feigned calm, but he felt like every inch he took toward her was a challenge to his usual restraint.
When he arrived, she didn't turn to look at him. She sat with her back straight, her legs crossed with studied elegance. Her profile was serene, immutable. Nate sat next to her, trying not to make a sound. As soon as his arm lightly brushed against hers as he settled in, he felt an immediate chill, like an icy shock piercing his skin. The contact was minimal, but his body reacted as if he'd been submerged in icy water.
She, on the other hand, did not even flinch.
He blinked, pretending. Was it real? Maybe his mind was betraying him.
He tried to focus. This wasn't the time to lose his composure. But then, as if a more primitive part of him took over, his eyes surreptitiously scanned every feature. The way her light blouse fell over her bust, the elegant curve of her back, the line of her jaw as it subtly tensed. Alice's beauty was dangerous. Not in the classical sense. Not vulgar or provocative. She was… impossible. Like a breathing porcelain figurine.
Suddenly, Alice turned her head and looked directly at him.
Nate froze.
His eyes were dark and penetrating as if observing from another plane of consciousness. His left eyebrow was slightly raised a mixture of curiosity and irony floating in his expression.
He opened his mouth before thinking about it.
—You must be Rosalie… Cullen, right?
A tense silence followed his words.
Alice looked at him for a second longer and then spoke. Her voice was soft, and melodious… but with a surgical precision that made him feel like an idiot.
—Rosalie is my sister. Her last name is Hale. I'm Alice. Cullen.
Nate blinked, trying to compose himself.
—But Eric told me… —he murmured, without finishing the sentence.
Alice raised her eyebrow a little higher, as if she'd heard him perfectly but didn't need an answer. Her lips hinted at something that wasn't quite a smile, more like a floating question.
He cleared his throat, uncomfortable. The warmth on his neck contrasted with the chill he'd felt before.
"You have a… good haircut," he said hastily.
Alice watched him, blinking twice.
Silence.
And then, without saying anything, she turned her face forward again, leaving him buried in the shame of his comment. Nate pursed his lips. He'd sounded like an elementary school kid.
Mr. Mason started the class by talking about unreliable narrators. Nate barely listened. He was too focused on not looking—or looking too much—at the girl next to him.
He couldn't help it. There was something… addictive about it. As if every second he spent without looking at her, his body accused him of betrayal.
"Do you always sit here?" he asked, like someone tossing a coin into a bottomless pit.
Alice rolled only her eyes this time, without moving her head.
"Almost always," he replied, in a neutral tone.
"Almost always." As if even their location were negotiable on their terms.
"Do you like this class?" he insisted, without knowing why.
Silence.
Then, almost inaudible:
-I guess.
Nate pursed his lips. What was he doing? Why was he behaving like this? He, who used to move like a predator between conversations, now stuttered like an ordinary student.
What I didn't know was that on the other end of that conversation, Alice was just as disoriented.
From the first moment she saw him, she'd noticed his gait. The way he analyzed his surroundings. Edward had warned her it wasn't normal. To avoid him. To be careful.
"That boy observes too much. As if he knew how to read what isn't being said," his brother had said.
And yet, there he was. Mumbling simple phrases, as if his entire intellect had melted at the simplest interaction.
Alice looked at him out of the corner of her eye. And instead of the lethal spy she expected to face, she saw a confused puppy. Lost. Clumsy.
And that… touched her heart. Which, in her world, was an emotional betrayal.
The class continued. Words flew back and forth. Paragraphs about literature. Types of narrators. Nate didn't even take notes.
When the bell finally rang, Alice moved as if the invisible music of her world had resumed. She packed her things with preternatural grace, stood up, and for a moment, it seemed she would walk away without looking back at him.
But at the threshold of the door, he stopped.
She turned her face slightly. Her eyes met Nate's. And this time, there was no irony or confusion.
Just a calm gaze. And in that calm… a hint of sadness.
As if to say, "I'd like to stay. But I can't."
And then, he disappeared down the hall.
Nate didn't move for several seconds.
He knew what had happened. He knew something inside him had broken. Not because of what he said. But because of what he couldn't do.
I didn't analyze it.
Not a single reading. Not a single prediction. Not a single line of rational deduction.
Just his presence.
And the persistent chill that ran across his skin, as if a part of him already knew...that he was in trouble.