Recommence ° Edward Cullen[Rewriting]

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Chapter Four \ A Familiar Stranger

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Edward heard her before he saw her.

A heartbeat so loud that it drowned out the others, impossibly swift and steady as it cut through the noise of the cafeteria. It promised something bright and confident, edged with something restless. And her scent, when she had walked into their shared biology class, had piqued his interest further, prompting him to truly look at her, only for his world to tilt on its axis.

Edward didn't notice humans anymore, having grown dismissive of them once he had learned control and found a morbid sense of peace with the constant hunger. But when the girl—Alexandra Swan, the town sheriff's eldest daughter—had met his gaze, even for the briefest moment, the shape of her face struck him like a chord he hadn't played in decades.

He caught himself staring, amber eyes watching intensely as she dropped her bag onto the counter, dark eyes sliding his way once before drifting back to the teacher. Her expression was cool and even, a flicker of amusement warming her features. She was a far cry from the awkward girls he'd sat beside over the years, their minds a never-ending slew of unwanted and unappealing information. Her mind, unlike theirs, was quiet—not silent, quiet.

Everything—from the set of her mouth to the tilt of her head as she ignored him—whispered of another life entirely: a room lit by a kerosene lamp, piano keys cold beneath his warm, human fingers, and a girl's low voice murmuring almost out of reach of recognition. Almost.

Immortality had blurred the edges of that life, yet he remembered the looming war, the girl who was not quite family but who had mattered to him nonetheless, and a melody not his own, soft and insistent in the background. And yet, it was impossible. He had been human then, nearly ninety years ago, and this girl was human now.

The girl in his memories would be dead by now, lost to history and time. . . and yet, here she was, looking at him without an ounce of recognition in her eyes.

Edward forced his hands flat on the lab table, focusing on the measured in-out of his breathing. He tried harder to hear her thoughts and caught only a wild static, like a radio hiss. It was nothing like the one other mind that stumped him—Bella Swan and her blank silence. Alexandra's was a shifting, restless noise he couldn't decipher as if it were a language he didn't know—a frequency he wasn't privy to.

When they were paired together, she was far from intimidating. Instead, she tilted her head at him and flashed a smirk as she said something light and teasing. Edward found himself engaging with her before he could stop himself, his curiosity burning hot. His supernatural presence didn't have her faltering—her pulse didn't jump, steady as she met his gaze evenly. Her scent was like a puzzle, rich and laced with something he couldn't quite name.

She sat there like a question he'd asked himself ninety years ago and still hadn't answered.

He should have kept his distance, but with every casual conversation she let him slip into, Edward felt himself circling a memory that suddenly came alive again, wondering if this girl was merely a likeness of his memory or if some echo of his past had found its way back to him.