The front door creaked softly as Amara pushed it open, the faint hum of the TV greeting her. The familiar scent of coffee and something slightly burnt...Charlie's favorite evening snack...hung in the air.
Inside the living room, Charlie and Bella sat side by side on the couch, eyes fixed on the television. Or at least, that's what they wanted her to believe. Because the moment Amara stepped inside, both their heads turned toward her in perfect synchronization.
If she hadn't known better, she would've thought they were just two perfectly normal people watching a perfectly normal show. But the sight of Charlie's shotgun resting ever so casually near his knee kind of ruined the illusion.
Oh. My. God.
They totally watched her come home.
Amara blinked at them, halfway between horrified and amused.
"Evening," she said cautiously, hanging her bag on the coat rack.
"Evening," Charlie echoed, voice way too calm. His eyes, however, were anything but relaxed. "Have fun?"
Amara froze for half a second, caught like a deer in headlights. "Uh… yeah. It was fine."
Bella, who had been sipping from her mug, smirked over the rim. "Fine, huh?" she drawled, setting it down with suspicious grace. "That's not what your face says."
Amara rolled her eyes, tossing her keys into the bowl near the door. "What does my face say, oh wise cousin?"
Bella leaned back on the couch, grin spreading. "It says someone had a good time and probably didn't stop smiling the entire way home."
Charlie cleared his throat. "Did he treat you right? Was he polite? Opened doors and all that?"
"Lucien.."
"Charlie," Bella corrected automatically, eyes sparkling with mischief.
Amara gave her a warning look before turning back to him. "Yes, Charlie, he was polite. Actually, he might win an award for most ridiculously well-mannered man on Earth."
"Hmm." Charlie's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Was he too polite? Because that's a red flag, too."
"Too polite?" Amara repeated incredulously. "How is that even a thing?"
"Trust me," Charlie muttered, leaning back and folding his arms. "If a guy's too polite, he's hiding something."
"Oh, please," Bella cut in, grinning. "You're only saying that because no one ever opened doors for you, Dad."
Charlie shot her a look. "Hey, I opened doors for your mom."
Bella raised an eyebrow. "Did you really, though?"
"Of course, I did!"
Amara snorted, biting back laughter. She loved watching these two bicker....it was domestic chaos at its finest. "Guys, if it helps your peace of mind, Lucien didn't kidnap me or hide a body in the woods. We literally drank coffee and ate pastries."
Charlie gave her a skeptical once-over. "You didn't let him pay, did you?"
"Charlie!" Amara exclaimed. "It's 2004, not 1904. And besides, he insisted. Something about gentlemanly duty."
"Hmm," Charlie grunted again, still not entirely convinced. "Was he nice to the staff?"
Amara blinked, then frowned. "What—why?"
"Because how a man treats the waiter tells you everything you need to know."
Bella was practically glowing with amusement now. "I can't believe you're giving her the dad talk already. I thought you'd save this for when I date edw—."
Charlie's head whipped toward her. "Ed who ?"
Bella froze, mug halfway to her lips. "...Did I ed ? I meant—! Eric! Yeah. Totally Eric."
Amara choked on a laugh, covering her mouth quickly. "Smooth, Bella. Real smooth."
"Eric, huh?" Charlie said slowly. "I'll remember that name."
Bella shot Amara a desperate look that screamed help me. Amara only grinned sweetly. "You know, Charlie, you should have a talk with Eric too. Make sure he knows about the shotgun policy."
Charlie's face lit up like Christmas. "Excellent idea, kiddo."
Bella groaned, burying her face in her hands. "You're evil."
"I try," Amara said brightly.
After another few minutes of Charlie's questioning—about the weather, Lucien's driving, Lucien's age, Lucien's favorite subject in school, Lucien's potential criminal record—Amara had had enough.
"Okay," she said, standing abruptly. "This interrogation has been lovely, but I'm going to bed before I confess to crimes I didn't commit."
Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Curfew's still ten on weekends."
Amara sighed. "Noted. I'll pencil that in between being awesome and doing homework."
Bella snorted, nearly spilling her coffee.
Charlie pointed at her. "You too, Miss Laughs-at-Everything."
"I didn't do anything!" Bella protested.
Amara took the chance to escape, muttering something about brushing her teeth as she climbed the stairs. She could still hear Charlie grumbling below about teenagers and their sass.
Halfway to her room, she realized Bella's footsteps were following her.
Of course.
"Why are you following me?" Amara asked flatly, not even turning around.
"I'm just… stretching my legs," Bella said innocently.
Amara threw her a look over her shoulder. "Stretching your legs in the exact direction of my bedroom?"
"Pure coincidence," Bella said quickly, lips twitching.
When they reached the door, Amara tried to shut it behind her, but Bella wedged her foot in.
"Oh, come on!" Amara groaned.
"Nope," Bella said cheerfully, slipping inside before Amara could stop her. She looked around with the critical eye of a detective inspecting a crime scene. "Sooo…" she started, voice dripping with curiosity. "How was the date?"
"It wasn't a date."
Bella's eyebrows rose so high they could've touched her hairline. "Right. And I'm secretly a professional ballerina."
Amara threw her hands up. "Fine! It was a date. Happy now?"
Bella grinned triumphantly. "Ecstatic."
Amara grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at her. Bella dodged, laughing, and snatched the pillow right back, whacking Amara on the shoulder.
"What was that for?" Amara said, laughing despite herself.
"For lying to me earlier about it being just coffee," Bella said, swinging again.
Amara caught the pillow midair and yanked it back. "Oh, so this is revenge now?"
"Absolutely."
They stared at each other for a moment—then both burst into giggles.
Finally, Bella flopped down on Amara's bed, still grinning. "So, tell me everything."
Amara sighed dramatically. "It was just coffee, Bella."
"With Lucien," Bella said, stretching the name like taffy.
Amara felt her cheeks warm. "Yes. With Lucien."
"And?"
"And we talked," Amara said defensively, walking over to her vanity to take off her earrings.
"About what?"
"Forks. Family. Life. You know—normal things."
Bella rolled onto her side, head propped on her hand. "He's definitely into you."
Amara's heart skipped a beat, though she tried to keep her expression neutral. "Don't be ridiculous."
Bella gave her a look. "Oh, come on. I saw the way he looked at you when he dropped you off. The man had heart eyes. Literal, cartoon heart eyes."
Amara turned, crossing her arms. "You were spying too?"
"Of course," Bella said without shame. "Dad made popcorn."
Amara's jaw dropped. "Popcorn?!"
"Yep. He said, and I quote, 'Might as well make it a show.'"
Amara threw another pillow at her. "You people are unbelievable."
Bella laughed so hard she almost rolled off the bed. "You should've seen his face when Lucien got out of the car. He was practicing his intimidating dad glare in the reflection of the TV."
"Oh my god," Amara muttered, covering her face. "I thought he'd only behave like this with you and Edward someday. I never thought I'd live to see this day."
Bella grinned. "Welcome to the club."
Amara sat on the edge of the bed, laughter still bubbling in her chest. Despite the teasing and the chaos, something about this—Bella sprawled on her bed, Charlie downstairs grumbling to himself, the faint sound of the TV—felt right.
Homey. Real.
"Anyway," Bella said, nudging her with a pillow. "You like him."
Amara looked away, fiddling with the edge of her sleeve. "He's… different."
"Different good or different bad?"
Amara smiled softly. "Different… confusing."
Bella nodded knowingly. "That's how it starts."
"Bella."
"What?" Bella said, feigning innocence. "I'm just saying."
They both dissolved into laughter again, the kind that filled the room and echoed down the hallway.
Later, when the lights dimmed and Bella finally returned to her room, Amara lay back against her pillows, smiling faintly.
Her thoughts drifted to Lucien—the way he smiled, the way his voice softened when he said her name, the way he made her forget everything else.
The warmth in her chest wasn't from the coffee Lucien had made her drink, or the glow of the setting sun still lingering in her mind—it was from the quiet comfort of being here, in this little house, with people who somehow made her feel like she belonged.
For the first time since she'd arrived in Forks, the silence didn't feel heavy. The walls didn't feel strange. The rain outside no longer sounded lonely.
This… this felt like home.
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