Twilight 2 | Page 5

and we did not sit here alone. My other friends, Mike and Jessica
(who were in the awkward post-breakup friendship phase), Angela and Ben (whose
relationship had survived the summer), Eric, Conner, Tyler, and Lauren (though that last
one didn't really count in the friend category) all sat at the same table, on the other side of
an invisible line. That line dissolved on sunny days when Edward and Alice always
skipped school, and then the conversation would swell out effortlessly to include me.
Edward and Alice didn't find this minor ostracism odd or hurtful the way I would have.
They barely noticed it. People always felt strangely ill at ease with the Cullens, almost
afraid for some reason they couldn't explain to themselves. I was a rare exception to that
rule. Sometimes it bothered Edward how very comfortable I was with being close to him.
He thought he was hazardous to my healt h—an opinio n I rejected vehement ly whenever
he vo iced it.
The afternoon passed quickly. School ended, and Edward walked me to my truck as he
usually did. But this time, he held the passenger door open for me. Alice must have been
taking his car home so that he could keep me from making a run for it.
I fo lded my ar ms a nd made no mo ve t o get out of the rain. "It's my birthday, don't I get to
drive?"
"I'm pretending it's not your birthday, just as you wished."
"If it's not my birthday, then I don't have to go to your house tonight…"
"All right." He shut the passenger door and walked past me to open the driver's side.
"Happy birthday."
"Shh," I shushed him halfheartedly. I climbed in the opened door, wishing he'd taken the
other offer.
Edward played with the radio while I drove, shaking his head in disapproval.
"Your radio has horrible reception."

I frowned. I didn't like it when he picked on my truck. The truck was great—it had
personality.
"You want a nice stereo? Drive your own car." I was so nervous about Alice's plans, on
top of my already gloomy mood, that the words came out sharper than I'd meant them. I
was hardly ever bad-tempered with Edward, and my tone made him press his lips
together to keep from smiling.
When I parked in front of Charlie's house, he reached over to take my face in his hands.
He handled me very carefully, pressing just the tips of his fingers softly against my
temples, my cheekbones, my jawline. Like I was especially breakable. Which was exact ly
the case—compared with him, at least.
"You should be in a good mood, today of all days," he whispered. His sweet breath
fanned across my face.
"And if I don't want to be in a good mood?" I asked, my breathing uneven.
His golden eyes smoldered. "Too bad."
My head was already spinning by the time he leaned closer and pressed his icy lips
against mine. As he intended, no doubt, I forgot all about my worries, and concentrated
on remembering how to inhale and exhale.
His mouth lingered on mine, cold and smooth and gentle, until I wrapped my arms
around his neck and threw myself into the kiss with a little too much enthusiasm. I could
feel his lips curve upward as he let go of my face and reached back to unlock my grip on
him.
Edward had drawn many careful lines for our physical relationship, with the intent being
to keep me alive. Though I respected the need for maintaining a safe distance between
my skin and his razor-sharp, venom-coated teeth, I tended to forget about trivial things
like that when he was kissing me.
"Be good, please," he breathed against my cheek. He pressed his lips gently to mine one
more time and then pulled away, folding my arms across my stomach.
My pulse was thudding in my ears. I put one hand over my heart. It drummed
hyperactively under my palm.
"Do you think I'll ever get better at this?" I wondered, mostly to myself. "That my heart
might someday stop trying to jump out of my chest whenever you touch me?"
"I really hope not," he said, a bit smug.
I rolled my eyes. "Let's go watch the Capulets and Montagues hack each other up, all
right?"
"Your wish, my co mmand."
Edward sprawled across the couch while I started the movie, fast-forwarding through the
opening credits.

When I perched on the edge of the sofa in front of him, he wrapped his arms around my
waist and pulled me against his chest. It wasn't exactly as comfortable as a sofa cushion
would be, what with his chest being hard and cold—and perfect—as an ice sculpture, but