"You are observant, aren't you?" I laughed again.
She smiled a little, the crease returning between her eyes as if she were concentrating on something.
"Were you hunting this weekend, with Emmett?" she asked after my laugh had faded. The casual way
she spoke was as fascinating as it was frustrating. Could she really accept so much in stride? I was closer
to shock than she seemed to be.
"Yes," I told her, and then, as I was about to leave it at that, I felt the same urge I'd had in the
restaurant: I wanted her to know me. "I didn't want to leave," I went on slowly, "but it was necessary.
It's a bit easier to be around you when I'm not thirsty."
"Why didn't you want to leave?"
I took a deep breath, and then turned to meet her gaze. This kind of honesty was difficult in a very
different way.
"It makes me...anxious," I supposed that word would suffice, though it wasn't strong enough, "to be
away from you. I wasn't joking when I asked you to try not to fall in the ocean or get run over last#p#分页标题#e#
Thursday. I was distracted all weekend, worrying about you. And after what happened tonight, I'm
surprised that you did make it through a whole weekend unscathed." Then I remembered the scrapes
on her palms. "Well, not totally unscathed," I amended.
"What?"
"Your hands," I reminded her.
She sighed and grimaced. "I fell."
I'd guessed right. "That's what I thought," I said, unable to contain my smile. "I suppose, being you, it
could have been much worse-and that possibility tormented me the entire time I was away. It was a
very long three days. I really got on Emmett's nerves." Honestly, that didn't belong in the past tense. I
was probably still irritating Emmett, and all the rest of my family, too. Except Alice...
"Three days?" she asked, her voice suddenly sharp. "Didn't you just get back today?"
I didn't understand the edge in her voice. "No, we got back Sunday."
"Then why weren't any of you in school?" she demanded. Her irritation confused me. She didn't seem to
realize that this question was one that related to mythology again.
"Well, you asked if the sun hurt me, and it doesn't," I said. "But I can't go out in the sunlight, at least, not
where anyone can see."
That distracted her from her mysterious annoyance. "Why?" she asked, leaning her head to one side.
I doubted I could come up with the appropriate analogy to explain this one. So I just told her, "I'll show
you sometime." And then I wondered if this was a promise I would end up breaking. Would I see her
again, after tonight? Did I love her enough yet to be able to bear leaving her?
"You might have called me," she said.
What an odd conclusion. "But I knew you were safe."
"But I didn't know where you were. I-" She came to an abrupt stop, and looked at her hands.
"What?"
"I didn't like it," she said shyly, the skin over her cheekbones warming. "Not seeing you. It makes me
anxious, too."
Are you happy now? I demanded of myself. Well, here was my reward for hoping. I was bewildered,
elated, horrified-mostly horrified-to realize that all my wildest imaginings were not so far off the mark.
This was why it didn't matter to her that I was a monster. It was exactly the same reason that the rules
no longer mattered to me. Why right and wrong were no longer compelling influences. Why all my
priorities had shifted one rung down to make room for this girl at the very top.
Bella cared for me, too.
I knew it could be nothing in comparison to how I loved her. But it was enough for her to risk her life to
sit here with me. To do so gladly. Enough to cause her pain if I did the right thing and left her.
Was there anything I could do now that would not hurt her? Anything at all?
I should have stayed away. I should never have come back to Forks. I would cause her nothing but pain.
Would that stop me from staying now? From making it worse? The way I felt right now, feeling her
warmth against my skin...
No. Nothing would stop me.
"Ah," I groaned to myself. "This is wrong."
"What did I say?" she asked, quick to take the blame on herself.
"Don't you see, Bella? It's one thing for me to make myself miserable, but a wholly other thing for you to
be so involved. I don't want to hear that you feel that way."
It was the truth, it was a lie. The most selfish part of me was flying with the knowledge that she wanted
me as I wanted her. "It's wrong. It's not safe. I'm dangerous, Bella -please, grasp that."
"No." Her lips pouted out petulantly.
"I'm serious." I was battling with myself so strongly-half desperate for her to accept, half desperate to
keep the warnings from escaping-that the words came through my teeth as a growl.