Recommence ° Edward Cullen[Rewriting]

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Chapter Four \ A Familiar Stranger

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Edward had heard her before he saw her.

A new heartbeat, swift, loud and steady, as it cut through the noise of the cafeteria. It was bright, confident and edged with something restless. Her scent, when she had walked into their shared biology class, had piqued his interest further, prompting him to look over and see her face, only for his world to tilt on its axis. Edward wasn't supposed to notice humans anymore, dismissive of them once he had learned control and found 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 little amused. A far cry from the awkward, young women he'd sat next to over the years with their minds a never-ending slew of unwanted and unappealing information.

Everything—from the set of her mouth to the tilt of her head as she ignored him—whispered of another life entirely: a parlour lit by gaslight, piano keys cool beneath his human fingers, a girl's low voice murmuring just out of reach. But that was impossible. He had been human then, nearly ninety years ago. Immortality had blurred the edges of that life, yet he remembered the looming war, the girl who had mattered to him, and a melody not his own, soft and insistent in the background.

But that person should've been gone, lost to history and time. . . and yet, here she was, looking at him with eyes that didn't recognize him at all. Edward forced his hands flat on the lab table, focusing on the measured in-out of his unnecessary breath. He tried 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 he wasn't privy to the contents of her mind.

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 had found himself engaging with her before he could stop, his curiosity burning. Her pulse didn't jump, her scent was a puzzle—not sweet, but strange, laced with something he couldn't place. She sat there like a question he'd asked himself ninety years ago and still hadn't solved.

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 resemblance or if some echo of the past had found its way back to him.

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In no way did Edward consider himself as daring as Emmett or as theatrically charming as Alice. He had cultivated an air of distance for decades because it kept everything neat. His hunger contained, curiosity muted, humans safe. But as he lingered under the dripping fir trees at the edge of the lot, watching Alex Swan stand alone in the downpour, something slipped.