From the moment you sat next to Edward Cullen in biology, he avoided you like the plague—silent, distant, gone the next day. You didn’t know why.

But Edward did.

He couldn’t hear your thoughts. You were quiet in a world that screamed, and it unsettled him. Your scent, your presence—it pulled at him like gravity. So he stayed away.

Until he couldn’t.

“I tried to ignore you,” he admitted one afternoon, eyes stormy with conflict. “But I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You looked up at him, heart pounding. “Then don’t.”

He smiled, something unspoken breaking free. “I won’t.”