He shook his head impatiently. "Something you don't already have."
I wasn't sure where he was trying to lead me, so I thought carefully before I answered. I came up with something that was both true, and also probably impossible.
"I would want . . . Carlisle not to have to do it. I would want you to change me."
I watched his reaction warily, expecting more of the fury I'd seen at his house. I was surprised that his expression didn't change. It was still calculating, thoughtful.
"What would you be willing to trade for that?"
I couldn't believe my ears. I gawked at his composed face and blurted out the answer before I could think about it.
"Anything."
He smiled faintly, and then pursed his lips. "Five years?"
My face twisted into an expression somewhere between chagrin and horror.
"You said anything," he reminded me.
"Yes, but . . . you'll use the time to find a way out of it. I have to strike while the iron is hot. Besides, it's just too dangerous to be human-for me, at least. So, anything but that."
He frowned. "Three years?"
"No!"
"Isn't it worth anything to you at all?"
I thought about how much I wanted this. Better to keep a poker face, I decided, and not let him know how very much that was. It would give me more leverage. "Six months?"
He rolled his eyes. "Not good enough."
"One year, then," I said. "That's my limit."
"At least give me two."
"No way. Nineteen I'll do. But I'm not going anywhere near twenty. If you're staying in your teens forever, then so am I."
He thought for a minute. "All right. Forget time limits. If you want me to be the one-then you'll just have to meet one condition."
"Condition?" My voice went flat. "What condition?"
His eyes were cautious-he spoke slowly. "Marry me first."
I stared at him, waiting . . . "Okay. What's the punch line?"
He sighed. "You're wounding my ego, Bella. I just proposed to you, and you think it's a joke."
"Edward, please be serious."
"I am one hundred percent serious." He gazed at me with no hint of humor in his face.
"Oh, c'mon," I said, an edge of hysteria in my voice. "I'm only eighteen."
"Well, I'm nearly a hundred and ten. It's time I settled down."
I looked away, out the dark window, trying to control the panic before it gave me away.
"Look, marriage isn't exactly that high on my list of priorities, you know? It was sort of the kiss of death for Renée and Charlie."
"Interesting choice of words."
"You know what I mean."
He inhaled deeply. "Please don't tell me that you're afraid of the commitment," his voice was disbelieving, and I understood what he meant.
"That's not it exactly," I hedged. "I'm . . . afraid of Renée. She has some really intense opinions on getting married before you're thirty."
"Because she'd rather you became one of the eternal damned than get married." He laughed darkly.
"You think you're joking."
"Bella, if you compare the level of commitment between a marital union as opposed to bartering your soul in exchange for an eternity as a vampire . . ." He shook his head. "If you're not brave enough to marry me, then-"
"Well," I interrupted. "What if I did? What if I told you to take me to Vegas now? Would I be a vampire in three days?"
He smiled, his teeth flashing in the dark. "Sure," he said, calling my bluff. "I'll get my car."
"Dammit," I muttered. "I'll give you eighteen months."
"No deal," he said, grinning. "I like this condition."
"Fine. I'll have Carlisle do it when I graduate."
"If that's what you really want." He shrugged, and his smile became absolutely angelic.
"You're impossible," I groaned. "A monster."
He chuckled. "Is that why you won't marry me?"
I groaned again.
He leaned toward me; his night-dark eyes melted and smoldered and shattered my concentration. "Please, Bella?" he breathed.
I forgot how to breathe for a moment. When I recovered, I shook my head quickly, trying to clear my suddenly clouded mind.
"Would this have gone better if I'd had time to get a ring?"
"No! No rings!" I very nearly shouted.
"Now you've done it," he whispered.
"Oops."
"Charlie's getting up; I'd better leave," Edward said with resignation.
My heart stopped beating.
He gauged my expression for a second. "Would it be childish of me to hide in your closet, then?"