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seat and he was perched on my desk. As always, I was electrically aware
of Edward sitting close enough to touch, as distant as if he were merely
an invention of my imagination.
"So," Mike said, looking at the floor, "Jessica asked me to the spring
dance."
"That's great." I made my voice bright and enthusiastic. "You'll have a
lot of fun with Jessica."
"Well…" He floundered as he examined my smile, clearly not happy with my
response. "I told her I had to think about it."
"Why would you do that?" I let disapproval color my tone, though I was
relieved he hadn't given her an absolute no.
His face was bright red as he looked down again. Pity shook my resolve.
"I was wondering if… well, if you might be planning to ask me."
I paused for a moment, hating the wave of guilt that swept through me.
But I saw, from the corner of my eye, Edward's head tilt reflexively in
my direction.
"Mike, I think you should tell her yes," I said.
"Did you already ask someone?" Did Edward notice how Mike's eyes
flickered in his direction?
"No," I assured him. "I'm not going to the dance at all."
"Why not?" Mike demanded.
I didn't want to get into the safety hazards that dancing presented, so I
quickly made new plans.
"I'm going to Seattle that Saturday," I explained. I needed to get out of
town anyway — it was suddenly the perfect time to go.
"Can't you go some other weekend?"
"Sorry, no," I said. "So you shouldn't make Jess wait any longer — it's
rude."
"Yeah, you're right," he mumbled, and turned, dejected, to walk back to
his seat. I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers to my temples, trying
to push the guilt and sympathy out of my head. Mr. Banner began talking.
I sighed and opened my eyes.
And Edward was staring at me curiously, that same, familiar edge of
frustration even more distinct now in his black eyes.
I stared back, surprised, expecting him to look quickly away. But instead
he continued to gaze with probing intensity into my eyes. There was no
question of me looking away. My hands started to shake.
"Mr. Cullen?" the teacher called, seeking the answer to a question that I
hadn't heard.
"The Krebs Cycle," Edward answered, seeming reluctant as he turned to
look at Mr. Banner.
I looked down at my book as soon as his eyes released me, trying to find
my place. Cowardly as ever, I shifted my hair over my right shoulder to
hide my face. I couldn't believe the rush of emotion pulsing through me —
just because he'd happened to look at me for the first time in a
half-dozen weeks. I couldn't allow him to have this level of influence
over me. It was pathetic. More than pathetic, it was unhealthy.
I tried very hard not to be aware of him for the rest of the hour, and,
since that was impossible, at least not to let him know that I was aware
of him. When the bell rang at last, I turned my back to him to gather my
things, expecting him to leave immediately as usual.
"Bella?" His voice shouldn't have been so familiar to me, as if I'd known
the sound of it all my life rather than for just a few short weeks.
I turned slowly, unwillingly. I didn't want to feel what I knew I would
feel when I looked at his too-perfect face. My expression was wary when I
finally turned to him; his expression was unreadable. He didn't say
anything.
"What? Are you speaking to me again?" I finally asked, an unintentional
note of petulance in my voice.
His lips twitched, fighting a smile. "No, not really," he admitted.
I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly through my nose, aware that I was
gritting my teeth. He waited.
"Then what do you want, Edward?" I asked, keeping my eyes closed; it was
easier to talk to him coherently that way.
"I'm sorry." He sounded sincere. "I'm being very rude, I know. But it's
better this way, really."
I opened my eyes. His face was very serious.
"I don't know what you mean," I said, my voice guarded.
"It's better if we're not friends," he explained. "Trust me."
My eyes narrowed. I'd heard that before.
"It's too bad you didn't figure that out earlier," I hissed through my
teeth. "You could have saved yourself all this regret."
"Regret?" The word, and my tone, obviously caught him off guard. "Regret
for what?"
"For not just letting that stupid van squish me."
He was astonished. He stared at me in disbelief.
When he finally spoke, he almost sounded mad. "You think I regret saving
your life?"
"I know you do," I snapped.
"You don't know anything." He was definitely mad.
I turned my head sharply away from him, clenching my jaw against all the
wild accusations I wanted to hurl at him. I gathered my books together,
then stood and walked to the door. I meant to sweep dramatically out of
the room, but of course I caught the toe of my boot on the door jamb and
dropped my books. I stood there for a moment, thinking about leaving
them. Then I sighed and bent to pick them up. He was there; he'd already
stacked them into a pile. He handed them to me, his face hard.
"Thank you," I said icily.
His eyes narrowed.
"You're welcome," he retorted.
I straightened up swiftly, turned away from him again, and stalked off to
Gym without looking back.
Gym was brutal. We'd moved on to basketball. My team never passed me the
ball, so that was good, but I fell down a lot. Sometimes I took people
with me. Today I was worse than usual because my head was so filled with
Edward. I tried to concentrate on my feet, but he kept creeping back into
my thoughts just when I really needed my balance.
It was a relief, as always, to leave. I almost ran to the truck; there
were just so many people I wanted to avoid. The truck had suffered only
minimal damage in the accident. I'd had to replace the taillights, and if
I'd had a real paint job, I would have touched that up. Tyler's parents
had to sell their van for parts.
I almost had a stroke when I rounded the corner and saw a tall, dark
figure leaning against the side of my truck. Then I realized it was just
Eric. I started walking again.
"Hey, Eric," I called.
"Hi, Bella."
"What's up?" I said as I was unlocking the door. I wasn't paying
attention to the uncomfortable edge in his voice, so his next words took
me by surprise.
"Uh, I was just wondering… if you would go to the spring dance with me?"
His voice broke on the last word.
"I thought it was girls' choice," I said, too startled to be diplomatic.
"Well, yeah," he admitted, shamefaced.
I recovered my composure and tried to make my smile warm. "Thank you for
asking me, but I'm going to be in Seattle that day."
"Oh," he said. "Well, maybe next time."
"Sure," I agreed, and then bit my lip. I wouldn't want him to take that
too literally.
He slouched off, back toward the school. I heard a low chuckle.
Edward was walking past the front of my truck, looking straight forward,
his lips pressed together. I yanked the door open and jumped inside,
slamming it loudly behind me. I revved the engine deafeningly and
reversed out into the aisle. Edward was in his car already, two spaces
down, sliding out smoothly in front of me, cutting me off. He stopped
there — to wait for his family; I could see the four of them walking this
way, but still by the cafeteria. I considered taking out the rear of his
shiny Volvo, but there were too many witnesses. I looked in my rearview
mirror. A line was beginning to form. Directly behind me, Tyler Crowley
was in his recently acquired used Sentra, waving. I was too aggravated to
acknowledge him. |
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