time again toward the empty Cullen table, and that thrilled me. It gave me hope. Perhaps she missed
me, too.
She had plans to go out with the other girls-I automatically planned my own surveillance-but these plans
were postponed when Mike invited Jessica out on the date he'd planned for Bella.
So I went straight to her home instead, doing a quick sweep of the woods to make sure no one
dangerous had wandered too close. I knew Jasper had warned his one-time brother to avoid the townciting
my insanity as both explanation and warning-but I wasn't taking any chances. Peter and Charlotte
had no intention of causing animosity with my family, but intentions were changeable things...
All right, I was overdoing it. I knew that.
As if she knew I was watching, as if she took pity on the agony I felt when I couldn't see her, Bella came
out to the backyard after a long hour indoors. She had a book in her hand and a blanket under her arm.
Silently, I climbed into the higher branches of the closest tree overlooking the yard.
She spread the blanket on the damp grass and then lay on her stomach and started flipping through the
worn book, as if trying to find her place. I read over her shoulder.
Ah-more classics. She was an Austen fan.
She read quickly, crossing and recrossing her ankles in the air. I was watching the sunlight and wind play
in her hair when her body suddenly stiffened, and her hand froze on the page. All I saw was that she'd
reached chapter three when she roughly grabbed a thick section of pages and shoved them over.
I caught a glance of a title page, Mansfield Park. She was starting a new story-the book was a
compilation of novels. I wondered why she'd switched stories so abruptly.
Just a few moments later, she slammed the book angrily shut. With a fierce scowl on her face, she
pushed the book aside and flipped over onto her back. She took a deep breath, as if to calm herself,
pushed her sleeves up and closed her eyes. I remembered the novel, but I couldn't think of anything
offensive in it to upset her. Another mystery. I sighed.
She lay very still, moving just once to yank her hair away from her face. It fanned out over her head, a
river of chestnut. And then she was motionless again.
Her breathing slowed. After several long minutes her lips began to tremble. Mumbling in her sleep.
Impossible to resist. I listened as far out as I could, catching voices in the houses nearby.
Two tablespoons of flour...one cup of milk...
C'mon! Get it through the hoop! Aw, c'mon!
Red, or blue...or maybe I should wear something more casual...
There was no one close by. I jumped to the ground, landing silently on my toes. This was very wrong,
very risky. How condescendingly I'd once judged Emmett for his thoughtless ways and Jasper for his lack
of discipline-and now I was consciously flouting all the rules with a wild abandon that made their lapses
look like nothing at all. I used to be the responsible one.
I sighed, but crept out into the sunshine, regardless.
I avoided looking at myself in the sun's glare. It was bad enough that my skin was stone and inhuman in
shadow; I didn't want to look at Bella and myself side by side in the sunlight. The difference between us
was already insurmountable, painful enough without this image also in my head.
But I couldn't ignore the rainbow sparkles that reflected onto her skin when I got closer. My jaw locked
at the sight. Could I be any more of a freak? I imagined her terror if she opened her eyes now...
I started to retreat, but she mumbled again, holding me there.
"Mmm... Mmm."
Nothing intelligible. Well, I would wait for a bit.
I carefully stole her book, stretching my arm out and holding my breath while I was close, just in case. I
started breathing again when I was a few yards away, tasting the way the sunshine and open air affected
her scent. The heat seemed to sweeten the smell.
My throat flamed with desire, the fire fresh and fierce again because I had been away from her for too
long.
I spent a moment controlling that, and then-forcing myself to breathe through my nose-I let her book
fall open in my hands. She'd started with the first book... I flipped through the pages quickly to the third
chapter of Sense and Sensibility , searching for something potentially offensive in Austen's overly polite
prose.
When my eyes stopped automatically at my name-the character Edward Ferrars being introduced for
the first time-Bella spoke again.
"Mmm. Edward." She sighed.
This time I did not fear that she had awoken. Her voice was just a low, wistful murmur. Not the scream
of fear it would have been if she'd seen me now.
Joy warred with self-loathing. She was still dreaming of me, at least.
"Edmund. Ahh. Too....close..."
Edmund?
Ha! She wasn't dreaming of me at all, I realized blackly. The self-loathing returned in force. She was
dreaming of fictional characters. So much for my conceit.
I replaced her book, and stole back into the cover of the shadows-where I belonged. The afternoon