him?"
"Too much," I whispered back. "More than he likes me. But I don't see how
I can help that." I sighed, one blush blending into the next.
Then, thankfully, Mr. Varner called on Jessica for an answer.
She didn't get a chance to start on the subject again during class, and
as soon as the bell rang, I took evasive action.
"In English, Mike asked me if you said anything about Monday night," I
told her.
"You're kidding! What did you say?!" she gasped, completely sidetracked.
"I told him you said you had a lot of fun — he looked pleased."
"Tell me exactly what he said, and your exact answer!"
We spent the rest of the walk dissecting sentence structures and most of
Spanish on a minute description of Mike's facial expressions. I wouldn't
have helped draw it out for as long as I did if I wasn't worried about
the subject returning to me.
And then the bell rang for lunch. As I jumped up out of my seat, shoving
my books roughly in my bag, my uplifted expression must have tipped
Jessica off.
"You're not sitting with us today, are you?" she guessed.
"I don't think so." I couldn't be sure that he wouldn't disappear
inconveniently again.
But outside the door to our Spanish class, leaning against the wall —
looking more like a Greek god than anyone had a right to — Edward was
waiting for me. Jessica took one look, rolled her eyes, and departed.
"See you later, Bella." Her voice was thick with implications. I might
have to turn off the ringer on the phone.
"Hello." His voice was amused and irritated at the same time. He had been
listening, it was obvious.
"Hi."
I couldn't think of anything else to say, and he didn't speak — biding
his time, I presumed — so it was a quiet walk to the cafeteria. Walking
with Edward through the crowded lunchtime rush was a lot like my first
day here; everyone stared.
He led the way into the line, still not speaking, though his eyes
returned to my face every few seconds, their expression speculative. It
seemed to me that irritation was winning out over amusement as the
dominant emotion in his face. I fidgeted nervously with the zipper on my
jacket.
He stepped up to the counter and filled a tray with food.
"What are you doing?" I objected. "You're not getting all that for me?"
He shook his head, stepping forward to buy the food.
"Half is for me, of course."
I raised one eyebrow.
He led the way to the same place we'd sat that one time before. From the
other end of the long table, a group of seniors gazed at us in amazement
as we sat across from each other. Edward seemed oblivious.
"Take whatever you want," he said, pushing the tray toward me.
"I'm curious," I said as I picked up an apple, turning it around in my
hands, "what would you do if someone dared you to eat food?"
"You're always curious." He grimaced, shaking his head. He glared at me,
holding my eyes as he lifted the slice of pizza off the tray, and
deliberately bit off a mouthful, chewed quickly, and then swallowed. I
watched, eyes wide.
"If someone dared you to eat dirt, you could, couldn't you?" he asked
condescendingly.
I wrinkled my nose. "I did once… on a dare," I admitted. "It wasn't so
bad."
He laughed. "I suppose I'm not surprised." Something over my shoulder
seemed to catch his attention.
"Jessica's analyzing everything I do — she'll break it down for you
later." He pushed the rest of the pizza toward me. The mention of Jessica
brought a hint of his former irritation back to his features.
I put down the apple and took a bite of the pizza, looking away, knowing
he was about to start.
"So the waitress was pretty, was she?" he asked casually.
"You really didn't notice?"
"No. I wasn't paying attention. I had a lot on my mind."
"Poor girl." I could afford to be generous now.
"Something you said to Jessica… well, it bothers me." He refused to be
distracted. His voice was husky, and he glanced up from under his lashes
with troubled eyes.
"I'm not surprised you heard something you didn't like. You know what
they say about eavesdropners," I reminded him.
"I warned you I would be listening."
"And I warned you that you didn't want to know everything I was thinking."
"You did," he agreed, but his voice was still rough. "You aren't
precisely right, though. I do want to know what you're thinking —
everything. I just wish… that you wouldn't be thinking some things."
I scowled. "That's quite a distinction."
"But that's not really the point at the moment."
"Then what is?" We were inclined toward each other across the table now.
He had his large white hands folded under his chin; I leaned forward, my
right hand cupped around my neck. I had to remind myself that we were in
a crowded lunchroom, with probably many curious eyes on us. It was too
easy to get wrapped up in our own private, tense little bubble.
"Do you truly believe that you care more for me than I do for you?" he
murmured, leaning closer to me as he spoke, his dark golden eyes piercing.
I tried to remember how to exhale. I had to look away before it came back
to me.
"You're doing it again," I muttered.
His eyes opened wide with surprise. "What?"
"Dazzling me," I admitted, trying to concentrate as I looked back at him.
"Oh." He frowned.
"It's not your fault," I sighed. "You can't help it."
"Are you going to answer the question?"
I looked down. "Yes."
"Yes, you are going to answer, or yes, you really think that?" He was
irritated again.
"Yes, I really think that." I kept my eyes down on the table, my eyes
tracing the pattern of the faux wood grains printed on the laminate. The
silence dragged on. I stubbornly refused to be the first to break it this
time, fighting hard against the temptation to peek at his expression.
Finally he spoke, voice velvet soft. "You're wrong."
I glanced up to see that his eyes were gentle.
"You can't know that," I disagreed in a whisper. I shook my head in
doubt, though my heart throbbed at his words and I wanted so badly to
believe them.
"What makes you think so?" His liquid topaz eyes were penetrating —
trying futilely, I assumed, to lift the truth straight from my mind.
I stared back, struggling to think clearly in spite of his face, to find
some way to explain. As I searched for the words, I could see him getting
impatient; frustrated by my silence, he started to scowl. I lifted my
hand from my neck, and held up one finger.
"Let me think," I insisted. His expression cleared, now that he was
satisfied that I was planning to answer. I dropped my hand to the table,
moving my left hand so that my palms were pressed together. I stared at
my hands, twisting and untwisting my fingers, as I finally spoke.
"Well, aside from the obvious, sometimes…" I hesitated. "I can't be sure
— I don't know how to read minds — but sometimes it seems like you're
trying to say goodbye when you're saying something else." That was the
best I could sum up the sensation of anguish that his words triggered in
me at times.
"Perceptive," he whispered. And there was the anguish again, surfacing as
he confirmed my fear. "That's exactly why you're wrong, though," he began
to explain, but then his eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, 'the obvious'?"
"Well, look at me," I said, unnecessarily as he was already staring. "I'm
absolutely ordinary — well, except for bad things like all the near-death
experiences and being so clumsy that I'm almost disabled. And look at
you." I waved my hand toward him and all his bewildering perfection.
His brow creased angrily for a moment, then smoothed as his eyes took on
a knowing look. "You don't see yourself very clearly, you know. I'll
admit you're dead-on about the bad things," he chuckled blackly, "but you
didn't hear what every human male in this school was thinking on your
first day."
I blinked, astonished. "I don't believe it…" I mumbled to myself.
"Trust me just this once — you are the opposite of ordinary."
My embarrassment was much stronger than my pleasure at the look that came
into his eyes when he said this. I quickly reminded him of my original
argument.
"But I'm not saying goodbye," I pointed out.
"Don't you see? That's what proves me right. I care the most, because if
I can do it" — he shook his head, seeming to struggle with the thought —
"if leaving is the right thing to do, then I'll hurt myself to keep from
hurting you, to keep you safe."
I glared. "And you don't think I would do the same?"
"You'd never have to make the choice."
Abruptly, his unpredictable mood shifted again; a mischievous,
devastating smile rearranged his features. "Of course, keeping you safe
is beginning to feel like a full-time occupation that requires my
constant presence."
"No one has tried to do away with me today," I reminded him, grateful for
the lighter subject. I didn't want him to talk about goodbyes anymore. If
I had to, I supposed I could purposefully put myself in danger to keep
him close… I banished that thought before his quick eyes read it on my
face. That idea would definitely get me in trouble.
"Yet," he added.
"Yet," I agreed; I would have argued, but now I wanted him to be
expecting disasters.
"I have another question for you." His face was still casual.
"Shoot."
"Do you really need to go to Seattle this Saturday, or was that just an
excuse to get out of saying no to all your admirers?"
I made a face at the memory. "You know, I haven't forgiven you for the
Tyler thing yet," I warned him. "It's your fault that he's deluded
himself into thinking I'm going to prom with him."
"Oh, he would have found a chance to ask you without me — I just really
wanted to watch your face," he chuckled, I would have been angrier if his
laughter wasn't so fascinating. "If I'd asked you, would you have turned
me down?" he asked, still laughing to himself.
"Probably not," I admitted. "But I would have canceled later — faked an
illness or a sprained ankle."
He was puzzled. "Why would you do that?"
I shook my head sadly. "You've never seen me in Gym, I guess, but I would
have thought you would understand."
"Are you referring to the fact that you can't walk across a flat, stable
surface without finding something to trip over?"
"Obviously."
"That wouldn't be a problem." He was very confident. "It's all in the
leading." He could see that I was about to protest, and he cut me off.
"But you never told me — are you resolved on going to Seattle, or do you
mind if we do something different?"
As long as the "we" part was in, I didn't care about anything else.
"I'm open to alternatives," I allowed. "But I do have a favor to ask."
He looked wary, as he always did when I asked an open-ended question.
"What?"
"Can I drive?"
He frowned. "Why?"
"Well, mostly because when I told Charlie I was going to Seattle, he
specifically asked if I was going alone and, at the time, I was. If he
asked again, I probably wouldn't lie, but I don't think he will ask
again, and leaving my truck at home would just bring up the subject
unnecessarily. And also, because your driving frightens me."
He rolled his eyes. "Of all the things about me that could frighten you,
you worry about my driving." He shook his head in disgust, but then his
eyes were serious again. "Won't you want to tell your father that you're
spending the day with me?" There was an undercurrent to his question that
I didn't understand.
"With Charlie, less is always more." I was definite about that. "Where
are we going, anyway?"
"The weather will be nice, so I'll be staying out of the public eye… and
you can stay with me, if you'd like to." Again, he was leaving the choice
up to me.
"And you'll show me what you meant, about the sun?" I asked, excited by
the idea of unraveling another of the unknowns.
"Yes." He smiled, and then paused. "But if you don't want to be… alone
with me, I'd still rather you didn't go to Seattle by yourself. I shudder
to think of the trouble you could find in a city that size."
I was miffed. "Phoenix is three times bigger than Seattle — just in
population. In physical size —"
"But apparently," he interrupted me, "your number wasn't up in Phoenix.
So I'd rather you stayed near me." His eyes did that unfair smoldering
thing again.
I couldn't argue, with the eyes or the motivation, and it was a moot
point anyway. "As it happens, I don't mind being alone with you."
"I know," he sighed, brooding. "You should tell Charlie, though."
"Why in the world would I do that?"
His eyes were suddenly fierce. "To give me some small incentive to bring
you back."
I gulped. But, after a moment of thought, I was sure. "I think I'll take
my chances."
He exhaled angrily, and looked away.
"Let's talk about something else," I suggested.
"What do you want to talk about?" he asked. He was still annoyed.
I glanced around us, making sure we were well out of anyone's hearing. As
I cast my eyes around the room, I caught the eyes of his sister, Alice,
staring at me. The others were looking at Edward. I looked away swiftly,
back to him, and I. asked the first thing that came to mind.
"Why did you go to that Goat Rocks place last weekend… to hunt? Charlie
said it wasn't a good place to hike, because of bears."
He stared at me as if I was missing something very obvious.
"Bears?" I gasped, and he smirked. "You know, bears are not in season," I
added sternly, to hide my shock.
"If you read carefully, the laws only cover hunting with weapons," he
informed me.
He watched my face with enjoyment as that slowly sank in.
"Bears?" I repeated with difficulty.
"Grizzly is Emmett's favorite." His voice was still offhand, but his eyes
were scrutinizing my reaction. I tried to pull myself together.
"Hmmm," I said, taking another bite of pizza as an excuse to look down. I
chewed slowly, and then took a long drink of Coke without looking up.
"So," I said after a moment, finally meeting his now-anxious gaze.
"What's your favorite?"
He raised an eyebrow and the corners of his mouth turned down in
disapproval. "Mountain lion."
"Ah," I said in a politely disinterested tone, looking for my soda again.
"Of course," he said, and his tone mirrored mine, "we have to be careful
not to impact the environment with injudicious hunting. We try to focus
on areas with an overpopulation of predators — ranging as far away as we
need. There's always plenty of deer and elk here, and they'll do, but
where's the fun in that?" He smiled teasingly.
"Where indeed," I murmured around another bite of pizza.
"Early spring is Emmett's favorite bear season — they're just coming out
of hibernation, so they're more irritable." He smiled at some remembered
joke.
"Nothing more fun than an irritated grizzly bear," I agreed, nodding.
He snickered, shaking his head. "Tell me what you're really thinking,
please."
"I'm trying to picture it — but I can't," I admitted. "How do you hunt a
bear without weapons?"
"Oh, we have weapons." He flashed his bright teeth in a brief,
threatening smile. I fought back a shiver before it could expose me.
"Just not the kind they consider when writing hunting laws. If you've
ever seen a bear attack on television, you should be able to visualize
Emmett hunting."
I couldn't stop the next shiver that flashed down my spine. I peeked
across the cafeteria toward Emmett, grateful that he wasn't looking my
way. The thick bands of muscle that wrapped his arms and torso were
somehow even more menacing now.
Edward followed my gaze and chuckled. I stared at him, unnerved.
"Are you like a bear, too?" I asked in a low voice.
"More like the lion, or so they tell me," he said lightly. "Perhaps our
preferences are indicative."
I tried to smile. "Perhaps," I repeated. But my mind was filled with
opposing images that I couldn't merge together. "Is that something I
might get to see?"
"Absolutely not!" His face turned even whiter than usual, and his eyes
were suddenly furious. I leaned back, stunned and — though I'd never
admit it to him — frightened by his reaction. He leaned back as well,
folding his arms across his chest.
"Too scary for me?" I asked when I could control my voice again.
"If that were it, I would take you out tonight," he said, his voice
cutting. "You need a healthy dose of fear. Nothing could be more
beneficial for you."
"Then why?" I pressed, trying to ignore his angry expression.
He glared at me for a long minute.
"Later," he finally said. He was on his feet in one lithe movement.
"We're going to be late."
I glanced around, startled to see that he was right and the cafeteria was
nearly vacant. When I was with him, the time and the place were such a
muddled blur that I completely lost track of both. I jumped up, grabbing
my bag from the back of my chair.
"Later, then," I agreed. I wouldn't forget.
===========================================================================
11. COMPLICATIONS
Everyone watched us as we walked together to our lab table. I noticed
that he no longer angled the chair to sit as far from me as the desk
would allow. Instead, he sat quite close beside me, our arms almost
touching.
Mr. Banner backed into the room then — what superb timing the man had —
pulling a tall metal frame on wheels that held a heavy-looking, outdated
TV and VCR. A movie day — the lift in the class atmosphere was almost
tangible.
Mr. Banner shoved the tape into the reluctant VCR and walked to the wall
to turn off the lights.
And then, as the room went black, I was suddenly hyperaware that Edward
was sitting less than an inch from me. I was stunned by the unexpected
electricity that flowed through me, amazed that it was possible to be
more aware of him than I already was. A crazy impulse to reach over and
touch him, to stroke his perfect face just once in the darkness, nearly
overwhelmed me. I crossed my arms tightly across my chest, my hands
balling into fists. I was losing my mind.
The opening credits began, lighting the room by a token amount. My eyes,
of their own accord, flickered to him. I smiled sheepishly as I realized
his posture was identical to mine, fists clenched under his arms, right
down to the eyes, peering sideways at me. He grinned back, his eyes
somehow managing to smolder, even in the dark. I looked away before I
could start hyperventilating. It was absolutely ridiculous that I should
feel dizzy.
The hour seemed very long. I couldn't concentrate on the movie — I didn't
even know what subject it was on. I tried unsuccessfully to relax, but
the electric current that seemed to be originating from somewhere in his
body never slackened. Occasionally I would permit myself a quick glance
in his direction, but he never seemed to relax, either. The overpowering
craving to touch him also refused to fade, and I crushed my fists safely
against my ribs until my fingers were aching with the effort.
I breathed a sigh of relief when Mr. Banner flicked the lights back on at
the end of class, and stretched my arms out in front of me, flexing my
stiff fingers. Edward chuckled beside me.
"Well, that was interesting," he murmured. His voice was dark and his
eyes were cautious.
"Umm," was all I was able to respond.
"Shall we?" he asked, rising fluidly.
I almost groaned. Time for Gym. I stood with care, worried my balance
might have been affected by the strange new intensity between us.
He walked me to my next class in silence and paused at the door; I turned
to say goodbye. His face startled me — his expression was torn, almost
pained, and so fiercely beautiful that the ache to touch him flared as
strong as before. My goodbye stuck in my throat.
He raised his hand, hesitant, conflict raging in his eyes, and then
swiftly brushed the length of my cheekbone with his fingertips. His skin
was as icy as ever, but the trail his fingers left on my skin was
alarmingly warm — like I'd been burned, but didn't feel the pain of it
yet.
He turned without a word and strode quickly away from me.
I walked into the gym, lightheaded and wobbly. I drifted to the locker
room, changing in a trancelike state, only vaguely aware that there were
other people surrounding me. Reality didn't fully set in until I was
handed a racket. It wasn't heavy, yet it felt very unsafe in my hand. I
could see a few of the other kids in class eyeing me furtively. Coach
Clapp ordered us to pair up into teams.
Mercifully, some vestiges of Mike's chivalry still survived; he came to
stand beside me.
"Do you want to be a team?"
"Thanks, Mike — you don't have to do this, you know." I grimaced
apologetically.
"Don't worry, I'll keep out of your way." He grinned. Sometimes it was so
easy to like Mike.
It didn't go smoothly. I somehow managed to hit myself in the head with
my racket and clip Mike's shoulder on the same swing. I spent the rest of
the hour in the back corner of the court, the racket held safely behind
my back. Despite being handicapped by me, Mike was pretty good; he won
three games out of four singlehandedly. He gave me an unearned high five
when the coach finally blew the whistle ending class.
"So," he said as we walked off the court.
"So what?"
"You and Cullen, huh?" he asked, his tone rebellious. My previous feeling
of affection disappeared.
"That's none of your business, Mike," I warned, internally cursing
Jessica straight to the fiery pits of Hades.
"I don't like it," he muttered anyway.
"You don't have to," I snapped.
"He looks at you like… like you're something to eat," he continued,
ignoring me.
I choked back the hysteria that threatened to explode, but a small giggle
managed to get out despite my efforts. He glowered at me. I waved and
fled to the locker room.
I dressed quickly, something stronger than butterflies battering
recklessly against the walls of my stomach, my argument with Mike already
a distant memory. I was wondering if Edward would be waiting, or if I
should meet him at his car. What if his family was there? I felt a wave
of real terror. Did they know that I knew? Was I supposed to know that
they knew that I knew, or not?
By the time I walked out of the gym, I had just about decided to walk
straight home without even looking toward the parking lot. But my worries
were unnecessary. Edward was waiting, leaning casually against the side
of the gym, his breathtaking face untroubled now. As I walked to his
side, I felt a peculiar sense of release.
"Hi," I breathed, smiling hugely.
"Hello." His answering smile was brilliant. "How was Gym?"
My face fell a tiny bit. "Fine," I lied.
"Really?" He was unconvinced. His eyes shifted their focus slightly,
looking over my shoulder and narrowing. I glanced behind me to see Mike's
back as he walked away.
"What?" I demanded.
His eyes slid back to mine, still tight. "Newton's getting on my nerves."
"You weren't listening again?" I was horror-struck. All traces of my
sudden good humor vanished.
"How's your head?" he asked innocently.
"You're unbelievable!" I turned, stomping away in the general direction
of the parking lot, though I hadn't ruled out walking at this point.
