The moment Amara's Audi rolled into the school parking lot, she already felt tired.
Not physically.
Not mentally.
Spiritually.
Forks High School had that effect on her—a soul-sapping aura mixed with damp air, teenage chaos, and the unsettling knowledge that half the student body was either in love with a vampire or was a vampire.
She parked neatly between the lines—because even in emotional distress, she had standards—and turned off the engine. The car clicked softly as it cooled, like it too was exhausted by existence.
Amara stepped out and immediately spotted Bella.
Of course she did.
Bella was already out of her massive red truck, backpack slung over one shoulder, posture stiff, eyes sharp and hyper-focused.
Bella looked… ready.
Not for school.
Not for class.
Not even for social interaction.
No.
She looked ready to attack.
Like she had spent the entire drive rehearsing questions in her head.
Questions such as:
Why are you cold?
Why do you move like that?
Are you immortal?
Do you drink blood?
Do you sparkle?
Are we soulmates?
Amara shut her car door slowly, staring at Bella with narrowed eyes.
"You look," Amara said cautiously, walking toward her, "like you're about to commit a felony."
Bella didn't even blink.
"We need to talk to Edward."
Amara physically recoiled. Just a little. Like her soul flinched.
"Bella," she said, lowering her voice immediately, "please. Can you not talk about it."
Bella frowned. "About what?"
Amara stared at her.
"…You know exactly what."
Bella waited.
"The cold ones," Amara whispered urgently. "Vampires. Fangs. Immortality. Eternal suffering. Death-by-boyfriend."
Bella crossed her arms. "No."
That was it.
Just no.
No hesitation.
No fear.
No guilt.
Amara blinked.
"…That was not a discussion, was it."
Bella huffed dramatically—like she was deeply offended by Amara's concern for her continued existence—and started walking toward the school entrance with purpose.
Amara sighed.
A long, slow, deeply tired sigh.
A long, slow, deeply tired sigh.
Why did she care?
Why was she like this?
She followed Bella anyway.
They walked in silence, shoes crunching softly against damp gravel. Students passed them—laughing, gossiping, living blissfully unaware that supernatural chaos was unfolding five feet away.
Then Bella stopped.
Amara didn't need to look up to know why.
She felt him.
Edward Cullen stood a short distance away, leaning against the building like a gothic statue someone had forgotten to move. Hands in pockets. Pale skin practically glowing against the gray backdrop.
Expression so serious it looked painful.
He had the face of a man contemplating:
the meaning of life
the weight of immortality
and whether emotional constipation was a valid personality trait
Bella's entire body shifted.
Target acquired.
She stepped forward.
Then another step.
Then—she turned back.
"Amara," Bella called. "Are you coming?"
Amara stopped dead.
She blinked once.
Then again.
Why would you ask that.
She looked at Bella.
Then at Edward.
Then back at Bella.
Why would I go with you?
To stand there awkwardly like a third wheel?
To witness intense staring, heavy breathing, and deeply uncomfortable silence?
To die of secondhand embarrassment?
Her brain screamed ew.
She forced a smile.
"No," Amara said quickly. "You go ahead. I—I have something to do."
Bella squinted at her. "Are you not scared for me now?"
Amara paused.
She looked at Bella.
Then she looked at Edward, who was still standing there like a haunted mannequin with unresolved feelings and zero social skills.
Then back at Bella.
"You're a big girl, Bella," Amara said gently.
"You don't need my help."
Bella huffed—again—clearly offended by the suggestion of independence, then turned and marched toward Edward.
He straightened immediately.
Of course he did.
Together, they walked toward the forest.
Of course they did.
Amara watched them disappear, arms crossed, jaw tight.
She knew exactly what was about to happen.
She just didn't know how her being here changed anything—if it changed anything at all.
Was she supposed to intervene?
Interrupt fate?
Trip Edward?
Tackle him into a bush?
She was still spiraling when—
"Amara."
A hand landed on her shoulder.
Amara screamed.
Not internally.
Out loud.
She jumped so hard she nearly left the ground, spinning around like she was under attack.
Behind her stood—
Alice.
Jasper.
Rosalie.
Emmett.
The entire Cullen gang.
Amara clutched her chest. "DO YOU PEOPLE MATERIALIZE FOR FUN?!"
Alice laughed, bright and musical. "You're adorable when you panic."
"You're terrifying when you sneak," Amara snapped back, still breathing hard.
Rosalie stood with her arms crossed, gaze sharp and stormy, staring in the direction Edward and Bella had gone like she wanted to commit murder—with style.
Emmett leaned forward, towering and grinning. "She jumps easy," he said approvingly. "I like her."
"I don't like you," Amara muttered.
Jasper stood beside Alice, unreadable, silent, like a statue carved from tension and judgment.
Alice tilted her head. "You also know, right?"
Amara froze.
Slowly, she swallowed.
Of course Alice knew.
Future-seeing pixie nonsense.
Amara raised one hand halfway, palm up, in a universal please-don't-kill-me gesture.
"…Yes," she admitted. "Please don't kill me."
All of them stared at her.
Then—
Emmett burst out laughing.
Rosalie huffed sharply, trying—and failing—to hide a smile.
"Well," Emmett said cheerfully, clapping his hands, "no promises."
Amara dropped her hand and stared at him. "That's deeply unhelpful."
Alice stepped forward before Emmett could traumatize her further and pulled Amara into a hug.
A real hug.
Surprisingly little warm for cold ones. Tight. Protective.
"Don't worry," Alice said softly. "I'll always protect you."
Amara stiffened—then slowly relaxed, hugging her back.
"…Thank you," she murmured.
For a brief moment, everything felt lighter.
Then Emmett leaned in, stage-whispering—
"So, you gonna stick around and watch the drama, or what?"
Amara pulled back, deadpan.
"I need coffee."
Amara said it flatly. Final. Like a declaration of survival.
And possibly a new life.
She had barely finished the sentence when—
A cup appeared in front of her face.
Amara blinked.
Then she blinked again.
Slowly, carefully, she looked down.
It was a paper cup.
With a lid.
Steam rising from the top.
Hot. Fresh. Real.
She looked up.
Jasper was holding it out to her, expression calm, neutral, like handing traumatized humans coffee was just part of his daily routine.
Amara stared at him like he had just performed a crime against reality.
"…I just asked for that," she said slowly.
Jasper tilted his head slightly. "You needed it."
"That's not—" She pointed at the cup. "How did you get this?"
Before Jasper could answer, Alice bounced in beside them, eyes sparkling.
"I thought you'd need coffee," Alice said cheerfully, smiling in that I already knew way.
"And I'm basically your best friend now."
Amara squinted at her. "We have know each others for not much long."
"And yet," Alice said sweetly, "here we are."
Emmett leaned over Jasper's shoulder, peering at the cup. "She looks like she's deciding whether it's poisoned."
Amara sniffed it suspiciously. "You are vampires."
"Valid concern," Emmett admitted.
Rosalie rolled her eyes. "If we wanted you dead, you wouldn't be standing."
"That is somehow worse," Amara muttered.
Still, she took the cup.
The warmth seeped into her hands immediately. The scent was rich, comforting—normal. Human.
She took a sip.
Heaven.
Actual, tangible heaven.
Amara let out a small, involuntary sigh.
"…Okay," she said quietly. "That helped."
Alice beamed like she had personally invented coffee.
Jasper watched her carefully, the tension in her shoulders easing, her breathing slowing.
"Better?" he asked.
Amara nodded. "Much."
Then she looked at all of them—standing around her in a semi-circle like a very attractive, very unsettling supernatural support group.
She gestured vaguely with the cup.
"So what are you all now?" she asked. "My fairy godmothers?"
Emmett grinned. "I call godfather."
Rosalie scoffed. "Absolutely not."
Alice clapped her hands. "I'll take fairy godmother!"
Jasper raised an eyebrow. "I think that role requires subtlety."
Alice waved him off. "I have sparkles."
Amara choked slightly on her coffee. "Please don't sparkle near me."
Emmett laughed so hard the ground
practically vibrated.
Jasper stepped slightly closer, voice calm.
"You're safe, Amara."
She glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity.
"…I know," she said softly. "I think."
Alice linked arme with Amara once again.
Amara looked down at their linked arms. Then at her coffee. Then at the Cullens.
"…Amara take another er sip, warmth settling deep in her chest.
"…I'm afraid," she said flatly.
Alice squeezed her arm. "You're not alone."
For once—
Amara believed it.
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