They followed Bella's truck through Forks' modest downtown—past Newton's Olympic Outfitters where Mike was probably having an existential crisis, past the diner where Charlie occasionally ate when cooking felt like too much effort, past the handful of shops that constituted the town's entire commercial district. The whole place looked like someone had played SimCity for twenty minutes, got bored, and said "eh, good enough."
Veer found himself relaxing into the comfortable silence, the kind that came from being around someone who didn't feel the need to fill every moment with conversation. Jessamyn drove with casual competence that suggested extensive experience—one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gear shift, her attention constantly scanning the road while somehow also being perfectly aware of his presence.
"So," she said as they left town and merged onto the highway that wound through increasingly dense forest, "I'm curious about something."
"Just one thing?" Veer asked. "That seems remarkably restrained."
"I'm *starting* with one thing," Jessamyn corrected. "I have approximately forty-seven questions, but I'm attempting to be polite and not overwhelm you with interrogation fifteen minutes into our first official hangout."
"Forty-seven *exactly*, or are you rounding?"
"Forty-seven exactly. I made a list."
"You made a *list* of questions about me?"
"Color-coded," Jessamyn confirmed without shame. "Organized by category. I have a whole system. There's a spreadsheet involved."
"A *spreadsheet*?"
"With tabs. Multiple tabs. Cross-referenced."
"That's either really flattering or really concerning," Veer said. "I haven't decided which yet."
"Can't it be both? I feel like it can be both. Most interesting things are both flattering and concerning simultaneously. That's what makes them interesting."
"What categories did you organize the questions into?"
"Well, there's 'Basic Background Information,' 'Food and Cooking Related,' 'Automotive Knowledge and Preferences,' 'General Personality Assessment,' and 'Things That Don't Fit Other Categories But I'm Still Curious About.'"
"That last category sounds like it could get weird."
"It absolutely could," Jessamyn agreed cheerfully. "But I'm starting with category one, question one, which is relatively safe. No weird stuff yet."
"Yet?"
"I'm not making promises about later categories."
"Fair enough. What's question number one?"
Jessamyn was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice carried genuine curiosity rather than polite interest. "You're clearly more complicated than the average person who shows up at Forks High. You cook like a professional chef, you know more about cars than most mechanics, you have this whole... *presence* about you that's hard to define. Like you're carrying around knowledge or experience that doesn't match your age. But at school you were just hanging out, making pancakes, being normal. So here's my question: How do you reconcile those different versions of yourself? Because from an outside perspective, it's like watching someone with all this capability just casually existing as a regular teenager."
The question hit deeper than expected, though Veer appreciated that she'd phrased it in a way that wouldn't sound completely insane to anyone overhearing—like Bella, who was currently following Edythe's navigation directions in the truck ahead and probably couldn't hear them anyway, but still.
"Honestly?" he said, watching the forest blur past as the Charger ate up highway miles with efficient enthusiasm. "I'm still figuring that out. Some of this stuff is *new*. Really new. Like 'less than a week old' new. I've spent seventeen years being just Veer, regular person who makes decent pancakes and knows too much about cars. And now suddenly there's all this other stuff I'm apparently capable of, and integrating that with my normal life is..."
"Complicated?"
"*Extremely* complicated," Veer confirmed. "Like, fundamentally complicated in ways I don't have good words for. It's like discovering you have this whole other aspect of yourself that you didn't know existed, and now you have to figure out how both parts fit together without losing your mind or your sense of identity."
"That sounds incredibly disorienting."
"'Disorienting' is one word for it. 'Completely bonkers' is another. 'What the hell is happening to my life' is five more words."
"That's seven words total."
"Math was never my strongest subject. Which is ironic because apparently I'm good at a lot of other things I didn't know about, so you'd think math would be included."
Jessamyn laughed—a genuine sound that made something warm bloom in Veer's chest. "For what it's worth, I think you're handling it remarkably well. Most people would be having a complete breakdown if their lives suddenly got that complicated."
"Who says I'm not having a complete breakdown? Maybe this is what my breakdown looks like. Maybe I'm just really good at appearing functional while internally screaming."
"Are you internally screaming right now?"
"Little bit," Veer admitted. "But in a manageable way. Like a 3 out of 10 on the internal screaming scale. Definitely manageable. I've had worse."
"What would a 10 look like?"
"Probably actual external screaming. Maybe some property damage. Definitely some running around in circles while questioning every life choice that led to that moment. It's a whole escalation process."
"Have you hit 10 before?"
"Once or twice recently," Veer said. "It wasn't pretty. There may have been some yelling at the universe. The universe did not respond, which was rude."
They drove in comfortable silence for a moment before Jessamyn spoke again. "You know what's interesting? You seem really comfortable with all this complexity. Like, you're aware it's weird and disorienting, but you're not fighting it. You're just... adapting. Rolling with it. Most people resist change that dramatic."
"Is that good?"
"I think it's *very* good," Jessamyn said, her voice carrying warmth that made Veer's internal screaming drop to approximately a 2 out of 10. "It shows flexibility. Resilience. The ability to accept change without losing your sense of self. That's rare."
"Are you psychoanalyzing me right now?"
"Maybe a little. Is it working?"
"Little bit, yeah."
"Excellent. I'm adding 'responds well to psychological analysis' to my spreadsheet."
"You're actually going to update the spreadsheet?"
"Absolutely. I take my organizational systems very seriously. It's a whole thing. My family makes fun of me for it."
"Do they also have spreadsheets about people?"
"Edythe has filing systems. Eleanor has... organized chaos? It's hard to describe. She knows where everything is, but nobody else does. It's like her brain is organized in a way that makes sense only to her."
Ahead of them, Bella's truck was slowing down as Edythe apparently provided navigation instructions. The highway had narrowed to a two-lane road that wound through increasingly dense forest—the kind of scenery that looked like Bob Ross had gotten really enthusiastic about evergreens and possibly consumed some questionable substances before deciding "more trees" was the solution to every compositional question.
"Next left," Jessamyn said. "Not marked. Just a gap in the trees. Super easy to miss if you don't know it's there, which is kind of the point."
"Is this where you murder me?" Veer asked. "Because if so, I feel like I should file a complaint. I was promised scenic views, not ominous unmarked forest roads that lead to mysterious locations."
"If I was going to murder you, I wouldn't bring my sisters as witnesses," Jessamyn said reasonably. "That's just poor planning. Too many people who could testify. Also Bella's here, and she seems like the type who'd report a murder."
"She would *definitely* report a murder," Edythe murmured from the truck ahead, apparently having heard them through her open window.
"See? Witnesses everywhere," Jessamyn said. "Very inefficient murder setup. I'm way more organized than this. If I was planning a murder, there would be spreadsheets. Multiple spreadsheets. Color-coded."
"Should I be concerned that you just described your hypothetical murder spreadsheets?"
"Probably not? The murder plans aren't for *you*. They're more theoretical. Like thought experiments."
"Again, not sure that's reassuring."
"I'm not great at reassurance," Jessamyn admitted. "I'm much better at tactical planning and mechanical engineering. Reassurance is more Eleanor's department."
Bella's truck made the turn with careful precision, disappearing into what looked like barely a gap between towering evergreens. Jessamyn followed with confident maneuvering that suggested she'd made this turn hundreds of times, the Charger's performance suspension handling the transition from pavement to dirt with barely a complaint.
The "road"—using the term *extremely* loosely—was really more of a path worn into the forest floor through repeated use. It wound upward through dense trees at an incline that would make most vehicles reconsider their life choices and possibly file for automotive emancipation.
Bella's truck handled it with surprising competence, its vintage engineering apparently designed for exactly this kind of terrain. The Charger, despite its low-profile racing suspension and probable value exceeding most people's annual salaries, navigated the rough ground with only occasional scraping sounds that made Jessamyn wince like someone was dragging nails across a chalkboard made of her internal organs.
"I should probably get a second vehicle for this kind of driving," she admitted. "Something with more ground clearance and fewer expensive aftermarket parts that can be destroyed by aggressive rocks with attitude problems."
"But significantly less cool," Veer pointed out.
"*Significantly* less cool," Jessamyn agreed with feeling. "Which is why I keep risking my undercarriage despite the sensible voice in my head saying 'Jessamyn, this is how you destroy a fifteen-thousand-dollar exhaust system.' The cool factor outweighs fiscal responsibility."
"Fifteen *thousand* dollars? For an exhaust system?"
"Custom titanium," Jessamyn said. "Weight reduction, performance optimization, sounds like angels singing the song of mechanical perfection. Worth every penny, even though the sensible part of my brain thinks I'm insane."
"Angels singing or Jessamyn's wallet crying?"
"Both. Simultaneously. It's complicated. There are graphs involved if you want to see my cost-benefit analysis."
"You did a cost-benefit analysis on your exhaust system?"
"I do cost-benefit analyses on everything. It's a problem. My family stages interventions."
"Do the interventions work?"
"Not even a little bit. I just make spreadsheets about the interventions."
Veer found himself laughing, genuinely charmed by Jessamyn's combination of tactical precision and complete self-awareness about her organizational obsessions. There was something endearing about someone who knew exactly how extra they were and just... leaned into it.
They climbed for several minutes, the path becoming progressively narrower and rougher, until finally it opened into a cleared area that offered a view so spectacular it actually made Veer gasp out loud like someone had punched all the air from his lungs and replaced it with pure aesthetic appreciation.
The overlook was positioned at what had to be one of the highest points in the immediate area, providing a panoramic vista that stretched for *miles* in every direction. To the west, the Olympic Mountains rose in dramatic peaks that disappeared into low-hanging clouds like nature's own special effects. To the east, dense forest rolled away toward Forks and the coast beyond in waves of green that looked like someone had textured the entire landscape with the same brush in Photoshop. And directly ahead, the Pacific Ocean glittered in the afternoon light—vast, infinite, utterly indifferent to human concerns or teenage drama or the complex interpersonal dynamics currently unfolding.
"Okay," Veer said as Jessamyn killed the engine and they both climbed out, "I take back every negative thing I've ever thought about Forks. This view justifies *all* the rain. Every single drop. All the moss. The perpetual gloom. The concerning lack of sunshine. Everything. This is worth it."
"*Right?*" Eleanor's voice carried from where she'd already emerged from Bella's truck with characteristic energy, practically bouncing with enthusiasm like a golden retriever who'd just discovered the concept of panoramic vistas. "This is our spot! Well, one of our spots. We have several. But this one's specifically good for when you want to feel small and insignificant in a *good* way, you know? Like cosmic perspective without the existential crisis."
"Small and insignificant in a good way," Bella repeated slowly, moving to stand near the edge with obvious appreciation for the scenery. "That's... actually a perfect description of this feeling. Like, I'm aware I'm tiny and my problems don't matter, but somehow that's comforting instead of depressing."
"Exactly!" Eleanor said, gesturing expansively at the view. "It's perspective! Makes high school drama feel appropriately meaningless when you're looking at millions of years of geological formation and the vast indifference of the ocean."
"Did you just describe the ocean as 'vastly indifferent'?" Veer asked.
"The ocean doesn't care about your problems," Eleanor said seriously. "It's been here for millions of years and will be here for millions more. Your breakup with Jessica? The ocean doesn't care. Your C+ in Biology? The ocean is completely apathetic. Mike Newton's wounded feelings about the cafeteria situation? The ocean could not be less interested."
"I didn't get a C+ in Biology," Veer said.
"I know, I'm using the hypothetical you. Royal you. Generic you. The theoretical construct of 'you' that represents all potential people."
"I don't think that's how that works."
"It's definitely not how that works," Bella confirmed.
Edythe joined them with her refined grace, gesturing broadly at the view with both hands like a sophisticated tour guide presenting the crown jewel of the tour. "When we first moved to Forks, this was one of the first places we discovered. It's private, isolated, and the scenery is dramatic enough to make you completely forget whatever teenage social drama was consuming your attention three minutes ago."
"It's also far enough from town that we don't have to worry about being seen," Eleanor added cheerfully. "Which means we can actually *relax* instead of maintaining our carefully crafted mysterious-and-aloof persona that we've spent years perfecting through trial and error and significant effort."
"You have a mysterious-and-aloof persona?" Veer asked with interest. "Like officially? With branding? Do you have a mission statement? A tagline?"
"We work *very* hard on it," Eleanor said seriously. "Takes years of practice to perfect the right balance of 'we're beautiful but unapproachable and definitely hiding something significant but we're not going to tell you what and also maybe we're from Europe or possibly wealthy eccentrics with complicated family dynamics that we don't discuss.'"
"The European royalty theory is very popular," Edythe added.
"I thought you were definitely European royalty in witness protection," Bella said. "That's what half the school thinks. The other half thinks you're in a cult."
"A *cult*?" Eleanor looked delighted. "That's new! What kind of cult?"
"Unspecified," Bella said. "Just vaguely cult-like. Too perfect, too coordinated, too much meaningful eye contact with each other. Classic cult indicators, apparently."
"We do make a lot of eye contact," Jessamyn acknowledged.
"It's efficient," Edythe said. "Conveys information quickly without unnecessary verbal communication."
"That's one of our cover stories," Jessamyn said. "We have several. Depends on who's asking. We're very adaptable. We've workshopped multiple origin stories."
"How many origin stories?" Veer asked.
"Seven," Eleanor said immediately. "Well, eight if you count the one where we're secretly government agents, but we retired that one because it was too Jason Bourne and people started asking too many questions about which agency."
"You're definitely hiding something," Bella observed, moving away from the edge to lean against her truck's tailgate. "But the unapproachable part seems... negotiable? Contextually flexible? Like, you're approaching people right now. You're being approached. There's mutual approaching happening. The mysterious aloofness has been compromised."
"Some people are worth approaching," Edythe said with diplomatic precision.
"Some people make the effort worthwhile," Jessamyn added, her golden eyes finding Veer's with unmistakable warmth that made his stomach do interesting acrobatic things that probably violated several laws of physics.
"Some people are interesting enough that mysterious aloofness feels like a waste of time and social energy," Eleanor finished with her characteristic directness. "Like, why be mysterious when you could just *talk* to someone? Mystery is overrated. Communication is where it's at."
"Eleanor doesn't really do mysterious," Jessamyn stage-whispered to Veer.
"I *can* do mysterious," Eleanor protested with genuine indignation. "I just choose not to because it's boring and I have things to say. Mysterious people never say anything interesting. They just stand around being cryptic and vague and hoping people will find them intriguing."
"That's literally the definition of mysterious," Edythe pointed out.
"Which is why it's boring! All style, no substance. I prefer substance. Substance is interesting."
"You prefer talking," Jessamyn corrected.
"Talking is *how* you get to substance," Eleanor argued. "You can't learn about people by standing in corners looking mysterious. You have to actually communicate. Exchange information. Build connections through dialogue."
"She makes a fair point," Veer said.
"Thank you!" Eleanor said triumphantly. "See? Veer gets it."
Bella was watching this exchange with growing comprehension, her analytical mind clearly working through multiple layers of subtext like someone solving a particularly complicated equation with too many variables. "Okay, I'm just going to say what everyone's thinking because I'm socially exhausted and past the point of caring about diplomatic phrasing—you three are definitely interested in Veer. All three of you. Simultaneously. At the same time. Which is both really weird from a conventional social perspective and also kind of fascinating from a psychological standpoint."
"Bella!" Veer protested, feeling his face heat up like someone had turned his internal thermostat to "maximum embarrassment."
"What? I'm just acknowledging the obvious," Bella said with the kind of blunt honesty that came from being overwhelmed by teenage social politics and deciding that directness was the only path forward that didn't involve having a complete breakdown. "They've been flirting with you since yesterday. You've been flirting back—don't even try to deny it, I've seen the eye contact. Everyone at school has noticed. Mike Newton looked like he wanted to file a formal complaint with the universe about the fundamental unfairness of reality. Jessica's probably writing angry poetry about it. We might as well address it directly instead of dancing around it with implications and subtext and meaningful glances."
"I enjoy a good meaningful glance," Eleanor said.
"We *all* enjoy meaningful glances," Edythe agreed. "They're efficient. Convey complex information quickly without requiring extensive verbal explanation."
"But Bella's not wrong," Jessamyn added, looking genuinely delighted by Bella's directness. "We haven't exactly been subtle about our interest."
"Subtle left the building approximately seventeen hours ago," Eleanor confirmed with cheerful honesty. "Around the time we showed up at Veer's house to 'check on him' after he seemed tired at school and ended up staying for dinner while asking him approximately forty questions about his life, his cooking, his background, and his opinions on various topics."
"That sounds like stalking when you phrase it that way," Veer pointed out.
"It was definitely stalking-*adjacent*," Jessamyn admitted without shame. "We're working on our approach. Refining our methodology. It's a learning process. We're still calibrating the appropriate level of interest that reads as 'attracted and invested' versus 'potential restraining order territory.'"
"How's that calibration going?"
"Unclear," Jessamyn said. "Feedback would be appreciated. We're open to constructive criticism."
"I think you're doing fine," Veer said. "Slightly overwhelming, but fine."
"Slightly overwhelming is our brand," Eleanor said happily.
The three sisters were clearly trying not to laugh at Bella's blunt assessment. Edythe had her hand pressed to her mouth in a futile attempt to maintain composure. Eleanor was literally shaking with suppressed giggles, her shoulders moving up and down like someone was playing her spine like a xylophone. And Jessamyn's eyes were absolutely *sparkling* with amusement and what looked like genuine approval.
"I like her," Eleanor announced to no one in particular, gesturing at Bella. "She just *says* stuff. No filter. Pure honesty. It's incredibly refreshing after years of carefully managed social interactions and diplomatic maneuvering and never saying what you actually mean because you're worried about offending someone or creating social awkwardness."
"It's certainly direct," Edythe agreed, having recovered some of her composure. "Though I suppose Bella's right—we haven't exactly been subtle about our interest. Subtlety was never really our strength in this particular situation."
"Subtle was never really on the table," Eleanor said. "We're not mime artists. We don't do subtle. We do direct and slightly overwhelming and 'here are our feelings, deal with them.'"
"We absolutely can do subtle," Jessamyn protested. "We've done subtle for years. We're *great* at subtle when the situation requires it."
"Name one time we've been subtle about something we actually cared about."
"That time in the cafeteria when we—no, wait, that wasn't subtle. That was pretty obvious."
"The time we showed up at his house—no, also not subtle. That was borderline stalking, we established that."
"The pancake conversation—definitely not subtle."
"Okay, fine, we're terrible at subtle when we're actually interested in something," Jessamyn conceded. "But we're *excellent* at direct communication and honest expression of feelings. So let's go with that instead."
"Much better," Eleanor said approvingly.
Veer found himself caught between multiple emotions—amusement at the absurdity of having this conversation on a scenic overlook, appreciation for Bella's blunt assessment, curiosity about where exactly this afternoon was heading, and a growing sense that his life had officially entered territory that normal people never encountered and possibly couldn't comprehend even if they tried.
"So," he said, deciding to match Bella's directness with his own because apparently that's where they were now, "since we're apparently past the point of subtle social dancing and firmly into 'just saying what we mean' territory, what exactly *is* this? The tour, the personal conversations, the whole 'spending time with you outside of school in private locations' situation? Because from my perspective, this reads as either really good or potentially concerning, and I'd like to know which category we're in before I commit to any particular emotional response."
"It's us getting to know you properly," Edythe replied with her characteristic refined precision. "Not the cafeteria version where we're performing for an audience of curious teenagers who are definitely going to gossip about everything we say and do. Not the school version where we have to maintain our carefully constructed image of mysterious siblings with unknown origins. Just... us. The real versions of ourselves that we don't usually show to people outside the family. The versions that have opinions and jokes and actual personalities beyond 'mysteriously beautiful and possibly from Europe.'"
"Because you're *interesting*," Eleanor added with obvious enthusiasm, bouncing slightly on her toes like someone had attached springs to her feet. "Genuinely, legitimately interesting, not just 'new person at school' interesting. You're smart, you're capable, you clearly have your own stuff going on that makes you way more complicated than the average teenager. Plus you make incredible food and know the difference between stock and modified supercharger systems, which is honestly really attractive."
"The supercharger knowledge is attractive?" Veer asked, genuinely curious about this assessment.
"*Extremely* attractive," Jessamyn confirmed with feeling. "Shows attention to detail and genuine interest in mechanical engineering. Also shows you're willing to learn about things that interest you, which is a really appealing quality. It's a whole thing. Very appealing. Like, if you started explaining the benefits of Whipple versus Magnuson superchargers right now, I might actually swoon."
"Can you even swoon? That seems like a very Victorian thing. Very Jane Austen."
"I don't know, but I'm willing to find out. For science. And possibly for my own entertainment."
"This conversation is getting increasingly weird," Bella observed from her position against the truck. "And I say that as someone whose baseline for weird conversations involves discussing proper tire rotation with my dad, who takes automotive maintenance *very* seriously and has *opinions* about brake fluid viscosity."
"Your dad has opinions about brake fluid?" Eleanor asked with genuine interest.
"*Strong* opinions. He once spent twenty minutes explaining why DOT 4 is superior to DOT 3 in specific weather conditions. It was very detailed. I understood maybe 30% of it."
"I bet Veer understood all of it," Jessamyn said.
"I probably would have," Veer admitted. "Brake fluid is actually pretty interesting when you get into the chemistry and performance characteristics."
"See? Attractive," Jessamyn said triumphantly. "The brake fluid knowledge is also attractive."
"Everything car-related is apparently attractive to you," Edythe observed.
"Not everything. Just the things that show genuine understanding of mechanical systems and engineering principles. There's a difference."
"It's about to get weirder," Eleanor said cheerfully, bouncing on her toes with barely contained energy. "Because we should probably address the elephant in the scenic overlook."
"There's an elephant?" Bella looked around with genuine concern, scanning the clearing like an elephant might actually appear. "Is that a metaphor? Are we speaking metaphorically? Because I feel like we should clarify that."
"Definitely a metaphor," Edythe confirmed patiently. "Eleanor means we should probably talk about the fact that three sisters are expressing romantic interest in the same person, which is unconventional by most social standards and would probably make our guidance counselor have concerns about our family dynamics if she knew."
"*Most* social standards?" Veer repeated, latching onto the diplomatic phrasing. "That's doing a lot of heavy lifting."
"Okay, *all* social standards," Edythe corrected with a slight smile. "Every single one. We're aware this is unusual. Unprecedented, even. The kind of thing that makes people go 'wait, what?' and then question whether they heard correctly and possibly check their hearing."
"It's definitely unusual," Bella said, her analytical brain clearly working overtime to process this information. "Like... really unusual. You're sisters. Who all like the same guy. At the same time. That's objectively weird. I'm not judging—like, genuinely not judging, you do you—but it's definitely weird."
"We're aware it's complicated," Edythe said diplomatically.
"We're also aware it's unusual," Eleanor added.
"But we're interested anyway," Jessamyn finished. "All three of us. For our own individual reasons that happen to align toward the same person, who is standing right here listening to us explain this and probably wondering if he should run screaming into the forest."
"I'm definitely considering running," Veer confirmed. "But I'm also curious, which is overriding my survival instincts. This is a recurring pattern in my life, honestly. Curiosity consistently defeats self-preservation."
"That's very cat-like of you," Eleanor observed.
"Are you calling me a cat?"
"I'm saying you have cat-like qualities. Curiosity-driven, occasionally defiant of conventional wisdom, probably lands on your feet."
"That's actually pretty accurate," Veer admitted.
There was a moment of silence—the kind loaded with implications and unspoken questions and the distant possibility that someone might start laughing hysterically at the sheer absurdity of this entire situation—broken only by the sound of wind through the trees and the distant cry of a bird that was probably having a much simpler afternoon than any of them.
"Okay," Veer said finally, looking at each of them in turn like someone conducting a very important job interview for the position of 'people who are romantically interested in me, apparently.' "I appreciate the honesty. Genuinely. But I have questions."
"We figured you would," Edythe said. "Ask away. We're committed to transparency. Well, mostly transparency. Contextually appropriate transparency."
"First question: Is this a competition? Like, are you three competing for my attention, and eventually one person 'wins' and the others gracefully bow out, possibly while playing sad violin music in the background?"
All three sisters shook their heads simultaneously with perfect synchronization that suggested they'd practiced this movement or possibly shared a brain and hadn't told anyone.
"Not a competition," Eleanor said firmly. "We don't compete with each other. That's not how we work. We're family. We don't do the whole rivalry thing. It's against our core values and also seems exhausting."
"We tried rivalry once," Jessamyn added with a slight grimace. "It was terrible. Very dramatic. Lots of unnecessary angst. We agreed never again. Signed a treaty and everything."
"What were you competing over?" Bella asked, clearly fascinated despite herself.
"A vintage car," Eleanor said. "1967 Mustang. Absolutely beautiful. Pristine condition. We all wanted it. The situation escalated. Got weird. Nearly destroyed our relationship. Our father made us do family therapy."
"Family therapy?" Veer asked, trying to imagine how that conversation went.
"It's exactly as awkward as you're imagining," Edythe confirmed. "Lots of feelings discussions. Very uncomfortable. We learned valuable lessons about communication and not being weird about material possessions and how rivalry is destructive to family bonds."
"Who got the car?" Bella asked.
"Carlisle kept it," Jessamyn said. "As a teaching moment. It sits in the garage as a reminder that material possessions aren't worth damaging relationships over."
"That's actually pretty wise," Veer said.
"Our father is *very* wise," Eleanor said. "Sometimes annoyingly so. He's one of those people who's always right about emotional stuff, which is frustrating when you're being irrational."
"Second question," Veer continued, "Is this a package deal? Like, you're interested as a collective unit and I either accept all three of you or none of you? All or nothing situation?"
"Also no," Jessamyn said firmly. "We're individuals with individual feelings. This isn't a group negotiation or a buy-two-get-one-free situation or some kind of weird collective bargaining. We each have our own reasons for being interested, and those reasons exist independently of each other."
"Though we *are* extremely close," Eleanor added quickly. "So if you're interested in one of us, you're going to be spending a lot of time with all of us anyway. That's unavoidable. We're kind of a package deal in the sense that we come with built-in sister company. We're a set. Like Russian nesting dolls, but people. And less nested. Actually, that's a terrible metaphor."
"It's a very bad metaphor," Bella agreed.
"I'm workshopping it," Eleanor said. "I'll come up with something better."
"Third question—" Veer started.
"How do we feel about each other being interested in the same person?" Edythe finished smoothly. "That's your third question, right?"
"Yeah, actually. How does that work? Emotionally? Practically? Because from a conventional perspective, that seems like a recipe for disaster and possibly a lifetime movie about complicated family dynamics that ends with everyone needing more therapy."
The three sisters looked at each other—another one of those communication glances that conveyed entire paragraphs of meaning in approximately 0.4 seconds of perfectly synchronized eye contact.
"We've been together for a long time," Edythe said carefully, choosing her words with obvious precision. "Years and years. Basically our whole lives. We know each other extremely well. Better than most siblings ever will. And we've learned that... feelings aren't a competition. One person caring about someone doesn't diminish another person's ability to care about them. It's not a zero-sum game where there's only a finite amount of affection to go around."
"We've also learned that sometimes," Eleanor added, her usual enthusiasm tempered with genuine seriousness that made her seem older than her appearance suggested, "multiple people can care about the same person without it being a problem. As long as everyone's honest, and everyone communicates, and nobody's trying to claim exclusive ownership of someone else's feelings. Which would be weird anyway because feelings aren't property. You can't own feelings. They just exist."
"Basically," Jessamyn finished, her tactical mind clearly organizing this explanation into coherent points, "we're saying we're all interested. We're all being honest about that. And whatever happens—if anything happens—we'll figure it out together without drama or competition or anyone feeling like they have to win something. We're not going to fight over you like you're the last slice of pizza at a party."
"Though if there *was* a last slice of pizza," Eleanor said with complete seriousness, "that would be different. We would absolutely fight over that. Pizza is serious business."
"Pizza is *very* serious," Edythe agreed solemnly.
"I once saw them have a fifteen-minute argument about pizza toppings," Jessamyn added. "It got heated. There were strong opinions about pineapple."
"Pineapple doesn't belong on pizza," Eleanor said immediately.
"It absolutely does," Edythe countered.
"This is exactly what I'm talking about," Jessamyn said to Veer. "Fifteen minutes. Minimum. Strong opinions."
"This is the weirdest conversation I've ever had," Veer said, shaking his head in disbelief. "And yesterday I spent two hours discussing the philosophical implications of different cooking oils with you guys. That's my baseline for weird conversations now, and this is weirder than that."
"Welcome to our lives," Jessamyn said with a grin that was equal parts mischievous and warm. "It only gets weirder from here."
"That's not reassuring."
"It's not meant to be reassuring. It's meant to be accurate. Fair warning and all that."
"So just to be clear," Bella said, her analytical mind clearly trying to process all this information into something coherent that made sense according to conventional social logic, "you three are all interested in Veer, you're not competing with each other, it's not all-or-nothing, and you're just... seeing what happens? That's the plan?"
"That's the plan," Edythe confirmed.
"That's a terrible plan," Bella said. "Like, objectively terrible. That plan has more holes than Swiss cheese. That plan is basically 'let chaos happen and hope for the best.'"
"Do you have a better plan?" Eleanor asked with genuine curiosity.
"No," Bella admitted. "But I'm also not the one trying to navigate this situation. I'm just the observer with popcorn, watching this unfold like it's a really weird reality show."
"You don't have popcorn," Veer pointed out.
"Metaphorical popcorn. I have metaphorical popcorn and I am metaphorically eating it while watching this trainwreck of a social situation."
"It's not a trainwreck," Eleanor protested.
"It's definitely trainwreck-*adjacent*," Jessamyn said. "We're working on it. Refining our approach. Making it less trainwreck-like and more... controlled crash?"
"That's not better," Bella said.
"No, it's really not," Edythe agreed.
Veer found himself laughing—genuinely, honestly laughing—at the sheer absurdity of the situation. Three beautiful, mysterious sisters who apparently all liked him, having this incredibly weird conversation on a scenic overlook while Bella provided sardonic commentary like a one-person Greek chorus.
"You know what?" he said finally. "Sure. Let's do this. Let's see what happens. Because apparently my life is already weird enough that this barely registers on the chaos scale anymore."
"Really?" Eleanor asked, her enthusiasm immediately ramping back up to full intensity. "You're okay with this?"
"I'm okay with getting to know you," Veer corrected. "All of you. As individuals. And seeing where that goes without any weird pressure or predetermined outcomes or fighting over me like I'm the last slice of pizza."
"That's very mature," Edythe observed.
"I'm extremely mature," Veer said. "I'm the most mature person here. I'm so mature it's basically my defining characteristic."
"You made a fart joke during lunch," Bella pointed out.
"That was *hours* ago. I've matured significantly since then. I'm a completely different person now."
"Character development," Eleanor said approvingly. "We love to see it."
"This is still the weirdest thing I've ever been part of," Bella muttered, shaking her head. "And I'm including the time my dad tried to give me 'the talk' using car metaphors. This is weirder than that."
"I really want to hear those car metaphors now," Jessamyn said.
"No, you don't," Bella said firmly. "Nobody wants to hear those car metaphors. They haunt me. They will haunt you too."
"Now I *definitely* want to hear them," Eleanor said.
"Absolutely not. That information is classified. Sealed. Buried in a metaphorical vault that will never be opened."
"We'll get it out of you eventually," Jessamyn said with cheerful confidence.
"You really won't."
"Challenge accepted."
Veer looked out at the view—the mountains, the forest, the ocean stretching to infinity—and felt something settle in his chest. His life was weird. It was complicated. It was full of things he couldn't explain to most people and situations that defied conventional social norms.
But maybe that was okay.
Maybe weird was good.
Maybe he could figure this out.
"So," he said, turning back to the group. "What's next on this tour? Because if we're doing this whole 'getting to know each other' thing, I feel like we should actually, you know, do that. Talk. Share embarrassing stories. Bond over our mutual weirdness."
"I have *so many* embarrassing stories," Eleanor said immediately.
"We know," Edythe and Jessamyn said in unison.
"I was going to say embarrassing stories about *you two*."
"We know," they repeated
This was going to be interesting.
---
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