He wasn’t smiling at first — his face was somber. But then his expression lightened as he looked me over, and he laughed.
“Good morning,” he chuckled.
“What’s wrong?” I glanced down to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything important, like shoes, or pants.
“We match.” He laughed again. I realized he had a long, light tan sweater on, with a white collar showing underneath, and blue jeans. I laughed with him, hiding a secret twinge of regret — why did he have to look like a runway model when I couldn’t?
I locked the door behind me while he walked to the truck. He waited by the passenger door with a martyred expression that was easy to understand.
“We made a deal,” I reminded him smugly, climbing into the driver’s seat, and reaching over to unlock his door.
“Where to?” I asked.
“Put your seat belt on — I’m nervous already.”
I gave him a dirty look as I complied.
“Where to?” I repeated with a sigh.
“Take the one-oh-one north,” he ordered.
It was surprisingly difficult to concentrate on the road while feeling his gaze on my face. I compensated by driving more carefully than usual through the still-sleeping town.
“Were you planning to make it out of Forks before nightfall?”
“This truck is old enough to be your car’s grandfather — have some respect,” I retorted.
We were soon out of the town limits, despite his negativity. Thick underbrush and green-swathed trunks replaced the lawns and houses.
“Turn right on the one-ten,” he instructed just as I was about to ask. I obeyed silently.
“Now we drive until the pavement ends.”
I could hear a smile in his voice, but I was too afraid of driving off the road and proving him right to look over and be sure.
“And what’s there, at the pavement’s end?” I wondered.
“A trail.”
“We’re hiking?” Thank goodness I’d worn tennis shoes.
“Is that a problem?” He sounded as if he’d expected as much.
“No.” I tried to make the lie sound confident. But if he thought my truck was slow . . .
“Don’t worry, it’s only five miles or so, and we’re in no hurry.”
Five miles. I didn’t answer, so that he wouldn’t hear my voice crack in panic. Five miles of treacherous roots and loose stones, trying to twist my ankles or otherwise incapacitate me. This was going to be humiliating.
We drove in silence for a while as I contemplated the coming horror.
“What are you thinking?” he asked impatiently after a few moments.
I lied again. “Just wondering where we’re going.”
“It’s a place I like to go when the weather is nice.” We both glanced out the windows at the thinning clouds after he spoke.
“Charlie said it would be warm today.”
“And did you tell Charlie what you were up to?” he asked.
“Nope.”
“But Jessica thinks we’re going to Seattle together?” He seemed cheered by the idea.
“No, I told her you canceled on me — which is true.”
“No one knows you’re with me?” Angrily, now.
“That depends . . . I assume you told Alice?”
“That’s very helpful, Bella,” he snapped.
I pretended I didn’t hear that.
“Are you so depressed by Forks that it’s made you suicidal?” he demanded when I ignored him.
“You said it might cause trouble for you . . . us being together publicly,” I reminded him.
“So you’re worried about the trouble it might cause me — if you don’t come home?” His voice was still angry, and bitingly sarcastic.
I nodded, keeping my eyes on the road.
He muttered something under his breath, speaking so quickly that I couldn’t understand.
We were silent for the rest of the drive. I could feel the waves of infuriated disapproval rolling off of him, and I could think of nothing to say.
And then the road ended, constricting to a thin foot trail with a small wooden marker. I parked on the narrow shoulder and stepped out, afraid because he was angry with me and I didn’t have driving as an excuse not to look at him. It was warm now, warmer than it had been in Forks since the day I’d arrived, almost muggy under the clouds. I pulled off my sweater and knotted it around my waist, glad that I’d worn the light, sleeveless shirt — especially if I had five miles of hiking ahead of me.
I heard his door slam, and looked over to see that he’d removed his sweater, too. He was facing away from me, into the unbroken forest beside my truck.
“This way,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at me, eyes still annoyed. He started into the dark forest.