BELLA AND I WALKED SILENTLY TO BIOLOGY. WE PASSED ANGELA WEBER, lingering on the sidewalk, discussing an assignment with a boy from her Trigonometry class. I scanned her thoughts perfunctorily, expecting more disappointment, only to be surprised by their wistful tenor.
Ah, so there was something Angela wanted. Unfortunately, it wasn’t something that could be easily gift wrapped.
I felt strangely comforted for a moment, hearing Angela’s hopeless yearning. A sense of kinship passed through me, and I was, in that second, at one with the kind human girl.
It was oddly consoling to know that I wasn’t the only one living out a tragic love story. Heartbreak was everywhere.
In the next second, I was abruptly and thoroughly irritated. Because Angela’s story didn’t have to be tragic. She was human and he was human and the difference that seemed so insurmountable in her head was truly ridiculous compared to my own situation. There was no reason for her broken heart. What a wasteful sorrow. Why shouldn’t this one story have a happy ending?
I wanted to give her a gift.… Well, I would give her what she wanted. Knowing what I did of human nature, it probably wouldn’t even be very difficult. I sifted through the consciousness of the boy beside her, the object of her affections, and he did not seem unwilling, he was just stymied by the same difficulty she was.
All I would have to do was plant the suggestion.
The plan formed easily; the script wrote itself without effort on my part. I would need Emmett’s help—getting him to go along with this was the only real difficulty. Human nature was so much easier to manipulate than immortal nature.
I was pleased with my solution, with my gift for Angela. It was a nice diversion from my own problems. Would that mine were as easily fixed.
My mood was slightly improved as Bella and I took our seats. Maybe I should be more positive. Maybe there was some solution out there for us that was escaping me, the way Angela’s obvious solution was so invisible to her. Not likely.… But why waste time with hopelessness? I didn’t have time to waste when it came to Bella. Each second mattered.
Mr. Banner entered pulling an ancient TV and VCR. He was skipping through a section he wasn’t particularly interested in—genetic disorders—by showing a movie for the next three days. Lorenzo’s Oil was not a cheerful piece, but that didn’t stop the excitement in the room. No notes, no testable material. The humans exulted.
It didn’t matter to me, either way. I hadn’t been planning on paying attention to anything but Bella.
I did not pull my chair away from hers today to give myself space to breathe. Instead, I sat close beside her like any normal human would. Closer than we sat inside my car, close enough that the left side of my body felt submerged in the heat from her skin.
It was a strange experience, both enjoyable and nerve-racking, but I preferred this to sitting across the table from her. It was more than I was used to, and yet I quickly realized that it was not enough. I was not satisfied. Being this close to her only made me want to be closer still.
I had accused her of being a magnet for danger. Right now, it felt as though that was the literal truth. I was danger, and with every inch I allowed myself nearer to her, her attraction grew in force.
And then Mr. Banner turned the lights out.
It was odd how much of a difference this made, considering that the lack of light meant little to my eyes. I could still see just as perfectly as before. Every detail of the room was clear.
So why the sudden shock of electricity in the air? Was it because I knew that I was the only one who could see clearly? That both Bella and I were invisible to the others? As though we were alone, just the two of us, hidden in the dark room, sitting so close beside each other.
My hand moved toward her without my permission. Just to touch her hand, to hold it in the darkness. Would that be such a horrific mistake? If my skin bothered her, she only had to pull away.
I yanked my hand back, folded my arms tightly across my chest, and clenched my hands closed. No mistakes, I’d promised myself. If I held her hand, I would only want more—another insignificant touch, another move closer to her. I could feel that. A new kind of desire was growing in me, working to override my self-control.
No mistakes.
Bella folded her arms securely across her own chest, and her hands balled up into fists, identical to mine.
What are you thinking? I was dying to whisper the words to her, but the room was too quiet to get away with even a whispered conversation.
The movie began, lightening the darkness just a bit. Bella glanced up at me. She noted the rigid way I held my body—just like hers—and smiled. Her lips parted slightly, and her eyes seemed full of warm invitations.
Or perhaps I was seeing what I wanted to see.
I smiled back. Her breathing caught with a low gasp and she looked quickly away.
That made it worse. I didn’t know her thoughts, but I was suddenly positive that I had been right before, and that she wanted me to touch her. She felt this dangerous desire just as I did.
Between her body and mine, the electricity hummed.
She didn’t move all through the hour, holding her stiff, controlled pose as I held mine. Occasionally she would peek at me again, and the humming current would jolt through me with a sudden shock.
The hour passed—slowly, and yet not slowly enough. This was so new, I could have sat like this with her for days, just to experience the feeling fully.
I had a dozen different arguments with myself while the minutes passed, rationality struggling with desire.
Finally, Mr. Banner turned the lights on again.
Under the bright fluorescents, the atmosphere of the room returned to normal. Bella sighed and stretched, flexing her fingers in front of her. It must have been uncomfortable for her to hold that position for so long. It was easier for me—stillness came naturally.
I chuckled at the relieved expression on her face. “Well, that was interesting.”
“Umm,” she murmured, clearly understanding what I referred to, but making no comment. What I wouldn’t give to hear what she was thinking right now.
I sighed. No amount of wishing was going to help with that.
“Shall we?” I asked, standing.
She made a face and got unsteadily to her feet, her hands splayed out as if she was afraid she was going to fall.
I could offer her my hand. Or I could place that hand underneath her elbow—just lightly—and steady her. Surely that wouldn’t be such a horrible infraction.
No mistakes.
She was very quiet as we walked toward the gym. The crease was in evidence between her eyes, a sign that she was deep in thought. I, too, was thinking deeply.
One touch of my skin wouldn’t hurt her, my selfish side contended.
I could easily moderate the pressure of my hand. It wasn’t exactly difficult. My tactile sense was better developed than a human’s: I could juggle a dozen crystal goblets without breaking any of them; I could stroke a soap bubble without popping it. As long as I was firmly in control of myself.
Bella was like a soap bubble—fragile and ephemeral. Temporary.
How long would I be able to justify my presence in her life? How much time did I have? Would I have another chance like this chance, like this moment, like this second? She would not always be within my arm’s reach.
Bella turned to face me at the gym door, and her eyes widened at the expression on my face. She didn’t speak. I looked at myself in the reflection of her eyes and saw the conflict raging in my own. I watched my face change as my better side lost the argument.
My hand lifted without a conscious command for it to do so. As gently as if she were made of the thinnest glass, as if she were fragile as the bubble I’d imagined, my fingers stroked the warm skin that covered her cheekbone. It heated under my touch, and I could feel the pulse of blood speed beneath her transparent skin.
Enough, I ordered, though my hand was aching to shape itself to the side of her face. Enough.
It was difficult to pull my hand back, to stop myself from moving closer to her than I already was. A thousand different possibilities ran through my mind in an instant—a thousand different ways to touch her. The tip of my finger tracing the shape of her lips. My palm cupping her chin. Pulling the clip from her hair and letting it spill out across my hand. My arms winding around her waist, holding her against the length of my body.
Enough.
I forced myself to turn, to step away from her. My body moved stiffly—unwilling.
I let my mind linger behind to watch her as I walked swiftly away, almost running from the temptation. I caught Mike Newton’s thoughts—they were the loudest—while he watched Bella walk past him in oblivion, her eyes unfocused and her cheeks red. He glowered and suddenly my name was mingled with curses in his head. I couldn’t help grinning slightly in response.
My hand was tingling. I flexed it and then curled it into a fist, but it continued to sting painlessly.
No, I hadn’t hurt her—but touching her had still been a mistake.
It felt like simmering coals, as though a dull version of my thirsting burn had spread throughout my entire body.
The next time I was close to her, would I be able to stop myself from touching her again? And if I touched her a second time, would I be able to stop at that?
No more mistakes. That was it. Savor the memory, Edward, I told myself grimly, and keep your hands to yourself. That, or I would have to force myself to leave… somehow. Because I couldn’t allow myself near her if I insisted on making errors.
I took a deep breath and tried to steady my thoughts.
Emmett caught up to me outside the English building.
“Hey, Edward.” He’s looking better. Weird, but better. Happy.
“Hey, Em.” Did I look happy? I supposed, despite the chaos in my head, I felt something close to it.
Way to keep your mouth shut, kid. Rosalie’s going to rip your tongue out.
I sighed. “Sorry I left you to deal with that. Are you angry with me?”
“Naw. Rose’ll get over it. It was bound to happen anyway.” With what Alice sees coming…
Alice’s visions were not what I wanted to think about right now. I stared forward, my teeth locking together.
As I searched for a distraction, I caught sight of Ben Cheney entering the Spanish room ahead of us. Ah—here was my chance to give Angela Weber her gift.
I stopped walking and caught Emmett’s arm. “Hold on a second.”
What’s up?
“I know I don’t deserve it, but would you do me a favor anyway?”
“What favor?” he asked, curious.
Under my breath—and at a speed that would have made the words incomprehensible to a human—I explained to him what I wanted.
He stared at me when I was done, his thoughts as blank as his face.
“So?” I prompted. “Will you help me do it?”
It took him a minute to respond. “But, why?”
“C’mon, Emmett. Why not?”
Who are you and what have you done with my brother?
“Aren’t you the one who complains that school is always the same? This is something a little different, isn’t it? Consider it an experiment—an experiment in human nature.”
He stared at me for another moment before he caved. “Well, it is different, I’ll give you that. Okay, fine.” Emmett snorted and then shrugged. “I’ll help you.”
I grinned at him, feeling more enthusiastic about my plan now that he was on board. Rosalie was a pain, but I would always owe her one for choosing Emmett; no one had a better brother than mine.
Emmett didn’t need to practice. I whispered his lines to him once under my breath as we walked into the classroom.
Ben was already in his seat behind mine, assembling his homework to hand in. Emmett and I both sat and did the same thing. The classroom was not quiet yet; the murmur of subdued conversation would continue until Mrs. Goff called for attention. She was in no hurry, appraising the quizzes from the last class.
“So,” Emmett said, his voice louder than necessary. “Did you ask Angela Weber out yet?”
The sound of papers rustling behind me came to an abrupt stop as Ben froze, his attention suddenly riveted on our conversation.
Angela? They’re talking about Angela?
Good. I had his interest.
“No,” I said, shaking my head slowly to appear regretful.
“Why not?” Emmett improvised. “Are we lacking in courage?”
I frowned at him. “No. I heard that she was interested in someone else.”
Edward Cullen was going to ask Angela out? But… no. I don’t like that. I don’t want him near her. He’s… not right for her. Not… safe.
I hadn’t anticipated the chivalry, the protective instinct. I’d been aiming for jealousy. But whatever worked.
“You’re going to let that stop you?” Emmett asked scornfully, improvising again. “Not up for the competition?”
I glared at him, but made use of what he gave me. “Look, I guess she really likes this Ben person. I’m not going to try to convince her otherwise. There are other girls.”
The reaction in the chair behind me was electric.
“Who?” Emmett asked, back to the script.
“My lab partner said it was some kid named Cheney. I’m not sure I know who he is.”
I bit back my smile. Only the haughty Cullens could get away with pretending not to know every student at this tiny school.
Ben’s head was whirling with shock. Me? Over Edward Cullen? But why would she like me?