Alice sat down across from him like she belonged there.
No flourish. No hesitation. Just… presence.
Her gaze met his with an unapologetic precision, the kind of eye contact that wasn't just looking, it was reading. And Sebastain, for once, didn't deflect. Didn't grin or say something biting. He just looked back.
It was quiet for a moment. Not the awkward kind. The real kind. The kind of quiet that made everything else fade into grayscale.
Then-
"You're late," he said, voice calm, lips curling just enough to let the sarcasm peek out.
Alice blinked once, the corner of her mouth tugging upwards. "And you're exactly what I expected."
That caught him off guard, not because it was bold, but because it was true. She said it like she meant it. Like she'd seen him. Not just today, but always.
"Well," he leaned back in his chair, resting one arm lazily along the backrest, "I hope the entertainment value holds up. I've known to disappoint once I stop throwing vampires into pine trees."
"I doubt that," she said, voice soft but steady. "There's too much weight in you for that. And way too many backup plans."
Sebastian raised a brow, almost impressed. "You get all that from one look?"
"No. From three," Alice said with a smile that was almost playful, almost reverent. "And… a few blurry glimpses."
They stared again. Time folded in on itself.
He didn't reach out, didn't move toward her, but his soul did. He felt it, deep in his chest, the undeniable gravitational pull of fate playing its hand. Not magic. Not biology.
Choice.
And suddenly, the cafeteria wasn't a cafeteria anymore. It was a moment carved out of everything ordinary and made significant by the simplest of truths.
She was real.
She was his.
"I figured if I waited around long enough, the universe might toss me something interesting," he murmured, voice lower now, more honest. "Didn't expect it to wear combat boots."
Alice grinned. "You think I'm interesting?"
"I think you're dangerous," he said.
She leaned forward just a little, resting her chin on her hand. "And that's a bad thing?"
"No," he said. "It's the only thing worth chasing."
That silence again, different this time. Weightless. Full of potential.
And then Alice reached forward, not some dramatic sweeping gesture, just her fingertips brushing against the edge of his tray, closing the distance by inches, not feet.
"I'm Alice," she said, voice barely above a whisper.
"Sebastian."
They shook hands like strangers meeting for the first time. But their fingers lingered for half a second longer than they should have, because they weren't strangers.
That was the absurdity of it. They already knew. Without knowing. They had always known.
Across the table, Emmett was watching them like he was seeing the season finale of his favorite show. Rosalie had gone still. Jasper and Emely exchanged the briefest of knowing glances. Everyone felt it, but no one said a word.
"Wanna sit her tomorrow too?" Alice asked lightly, but her eyes, her eyes asked something else entirely.
Sebastian smiled, not smug, not cocky. Just sure.
"I think I'd rather not leave."
And just like that, something permanent settled between them. Unspoken, unshakable.
This wasn't fireworks. This was gravity.
"So…" Emmett started, dragging out the word like it had a weight limit. "You guys gonna kiss, or should we all just keep pretending the cafeteria didn't just become ground zero for metaphysical bonding?"
Sebastian didn't even flinch. He stabbed his fork into the tragic cafeteria pasta, gave it a cautious sniff, and muttered, "Bold of you to assume I'd show affection in a government-subsidized prison with cheese on the walls."
Alice didn't even look at him, not directly, but she was smiling. Calmly. Coolly. As if she hadn't just experienced soul-level whiplash and wasn't actively trying to suppress a grin that wanted to colonize her entire face.
"Oh, please," she said lightly, taking a sip from her water bottle. "You think he's the type to just kiss someone on day one?"
Sebastian nodded solemnly. "Correct. I'm the type to engage in precisely three layers of dry wit, disappear dramatically, and then leave an origami heart in their locker made from a detention slip."
That got a laugh out of Emmett, deep and genuine. "Man, Rosalie was right. You're weird. I like it."
Rosalie, for her part, arched one perfect brow. "Didn't say I disliked it. Just observing the chaos in real time."
"Why does it feel like I walked into a family sitcom mid-season?" Sebastian asked, chewing thoughtfully. "Like I'm the mysterious cousin introduced to save ratings."
"You are wearing the hoodie of someone with mysterious trauma and great comedic timing," Alice offered, brushing her fingers over the table like she was drawing invisible maps in the condensation ring from her drink.
Sebastian considered that. "Tuché. All I need now is a tragic violin score and an emotionally damaged goldfish."
Jasper, who'd been mostly silent beside Emely, gave a slight chuckle. "You'd fit in surprisingly well."
Sebastian pointed at him with his fork. "Thank you, Abercrombie Gandalf."
That earned a light snort from Emely, who elbowed Jasper gently. "Told you he'd break the serious act."
"I wasn't being serious," Jasper mumbled, adjusting his posture. "Just… focused."
Sebastian leaned in like he was about to deliver a state secret. "You're all way too coordinated to be normal, by the way. No group of attractive pale people with elite skincare and cryptic stares ends up in rural Washington without being, like, a cult."
Emmett grinned. "We prefer the term 'alternative family unit.'"
"'Mysterious tax-dodging commune' has a nice ring too," Sebastian replied. "Do you guys just… hunt models in the woods for sport?"
Rosalie deadpanned, "Only the ones that wear white after Labor Day."
Alice finally looked up at him, eyes bright. "And what do you do for fun, Sebastian?"
"Oh, you know…" He paused, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Light pranking. Chaos. Vector manipulation. Occasionally making emotionally constipated people experience character growth."
There was a beat of silence. Then Emmett raised his brow. "You're serious about that vector stuff, huh?"
Sebastian gave him a look. "Vectors are very serious. You know what's not? The gravitational integrity of this table. And yet, here we are."
Just to make his point, he casually shifted the entire cafeteria tray two inches to the left without touching it. It glided smooth as silk, like an air hockey puck.
Jasper blinked. Emely narrowed her eyes with a hint of curiosity. Rosalie muttered something under her breath. Alice… just watched. Like she's expected it. Like it confirmed something she already knew.
"You'll fit right in," she said softly.
He looked at her. "I already do."
And just like that, the lunch table returned to normal, or atleast their version of it. Small talk resumed. Emmett launched into a rant about gym class and something called "the great dodgeball betrayal of sophomore year." Jasper offered a few grunted contributions, while Rosalie and Emely exchanged dry commentary about school gossip.
Sebastian? He just leaned back in his seat, arms folded, taking it all in.
The laughter. The rhythm. The way their words flowed like threads in a half- woven tapestry. It wasn't perfect, but it was real. And for someone like him, who'd spent so long hovering outside the narrative… it felt like a beginning.
Alice caught his gaze once more. Didn't smile this time, just looked at him. As if to say, we're just getting started.
And he smiled back.
Not too wide.
Just enough.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
RANT/YAP
For those that wanna know what happened to the tray can read this… not important to the story, just some science.
What happened to the tray was a controlled manipulation of vector quantities, specifically, friction and momentum. By temporarily neutralizing the opposing frictional force and redirecting the tray's potential kinetic energy along a horizontal plane, Sebastian created a near-zero resistance glide. The result? A cafeteria tray moving with uniform velocity as if on an ideal surface. No magic. Just high-level control and physics… used to launch a sandwich or smth.
END OF CHAPTER 13