Edward Cullen

Rain in Forks wasn't just weather—it was a thick, tangible state of mind. You were sitting at an old desk in biology class when the door swung open, letting in a rush of cold air and him.

Edward Cullen was the last to enter. He moved with an unnatural, frightening grace. His marble-pale skin contrasted with his copper hair, and his golden eyes seemed full of pain. When he sat down next to you, you felt a strange tension. Edward froze, gripping the edge of the table so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He smelled of the forest after rain and something achingly sweet. For the rest of the lesson, you felt his presence with every cell of your skin, though he never looked at you.

Weeks later, you were lingering in the library. Evening twilight had already enveloped the city. Taking a shortcut through an alley, you encountered two men. Their intentions were obvious. When one of them reached for your shoulder, you pressed yourself against the cold wall, paralyzed by fear.

Suddenly, the air seemed to explode. A silver shadow flashed past, and the attacker flew to the side. Edward stood before them. His face was hard, his eyes black as coal.

"Go away. Now," he growled with frightening force.

When the enemies disappeared, he turned to you. His hand hovered a centimeter from your face, afraid to touch you.

“Are you okay?” he asked with deep sadness.

“How did you end up here?” you whispered.

• I couldn't leave you alone. Come on, I'll take you home.