It was very hard, in the morning, to argue with the part of me that was sure last night was a dream. Logic wasn't on my side, or common sense. I clung to the parts I couldn't have imagined—like his smell. I was sure I could never have dreamed that up on my own.
It was foggy and dark outside my window, absolutely perfect. He had no reason not to be in school today. I dressed in my heavy clothes, remembering I didn't have a jacket. Further proof that my memory was real.
When I got downstairs, Charlie was gone again—I was running later than I'd realized. I swallowed a granola bar in three bites, chased it down with milk straight from the carton, and then hurried out the door. Hopefully the rain would hold off until I could find Jessica.
It was unusually foggy; the air was almost smoky with it. The mist was ice cold where it clung to the exposed skin on my face and neck. I couldn't wait to get the heat going in my truck. It was such a thick fog that I was a few feet down the driveway before I realized there was a car in it: a silver car. My heart thudded, then began beating in double time.
I didn't see where he came from, but suddenly he was there, pulling the passenger door open for me.
"Do you want to ride with me today?" he asked, amused by my expression as he caught me by surprise yet again. There was uncertainty in his voice. He was really giving me a choice—I was free to refuse, and I knew part of him hoped for that. It was a vain hope.
"Yes, thank you," I said, trying to keep my voice calm. As I stepped into the warm car, I noticed his tan jacket was slung over the headrest of the passenger seat. The door closed behind me, and, sooner than should be possible, he was sitting next to me, starting the car.
"I brought the jacket for you. I didn't want you to get sick or something." His voice was guarded. I noticed that he wore no jacket himself, just a light gray Henley. He wore it unbuttoned at the top and the fabric clung to his perfectly muscled chest. It was a tribute to his beautiful face that it kept me from staring at his body.
"I'm not quite that delicate." I said, but I pulled the jacket onto my lap, pushing my arms through the too-long sleeves, curious to see if the scent could possibly be as good as I remembered. It was better.
"Aren't you?" he contradicted in a voice so low I wasn't sure if he meant for me to hear.
We drove through the fog-shrouded streets, always too fast, feeling awkward. I was, at least. Last night all the walls were down… almost all. I didn't know if we were still being as candid today. It left me tongue-tied. I waited for him to speak.
He turned to smirk at me. "What, no twenty questions today?"
"Do my questions bother you?" I asked.
"Not as much as your reactions do." He looked like he was joking, but I couldn't be sure.
I frowned. "Do I react badly?"
"No, that's not the problem. You take everything so coolly—it's unnatural. It makes me wonder what you're really thinking."
"I always tell you what I'm really thinking."
"You edit," he accused.
"Not enough."
"Enough to drive me insane."
"You don't want to hear it," I mumbled, almost whispered. As soon as the words were out, I regretted them. The pain in my voice was very faint; I hoped he hadn't noticed it.
He didn't respond, and I wondered if I had ruined the mood. His face was unreadable as we drove into the school parking lot. Something occurred to me belatedly.
"Where's the rest of your family?" I asked—more than glad to be alone with him, but remembering that his car was usually full.
"They took Royal's car." He shrugged as he parked next to a glossy red convertible with the top up. "Ostentatious, isn't it?"
"Um, wow." I gawked at the car. "If he has that, why does he ride with you?"
"Like I said, it's ostentatious. We try to blend in."
"You don't succeed." I laughed and shook my head as we got out of the car. I wasn't late anymore; his lunatic driving had gotten me to school in plenty of time. "So why did Royal drive today if it's more conspicuous?"
"Hadn't you noticed? I'm breaking all the rules now." He met me at the front of the car, staying very close to my side as we walked onto campus. I wanted to close that little distance, to reach out and touch him, but I was afraid he wouldn't like me to.
"Why do you have cars like that at all?" I wondered aloud. "If you're looking for privacy?"
"An indulgence," he admitted with an impish smile. "We all like to drive fast."
"Figures," I rolled my eyes.
Under the shelter of the cafeteria roof's overhang, Jessica was waiting, her eyes about to bug out of their sockets. Over her arm, bless her, was my jacket.
"Hey, Jess," I said when we were a few feet away. "Thanks for remembering." She handed me my jacket without speaking.
"Good morning, Jessica," Edward said politely. It wasn't really his fault that his voice was so irresistible. Or what his eyes were capable of.
"Er…hi." She shifted her wide eyes to me, trying to gather her jumbled thoughts. "I guess I'll see you in Trig." She gave me a meaningful look, and I suppressed a sigh. What on earth was I going to tell her?
"Yeah, I'll see you then."
She walked away, pausing twice to peek back over her shoulder at us.
"What are you going to tell her?" Edward murmured.
"Hey, I thought you couldn't read my mind!" I glared at him.
"I can't," he said, startled. Then understanding brightened his eyes. "However, I can read hers—she'll be waiting to ambush you in class."
I groaned as I pulled off his jacket and handed it to him, replacing it with my own. He folded it over his arm.
"So what are you going to tell her?"
"A little help?" I pleaded. "What does she want to know?"
He shook his head, grinning wickedly. "That's not fair."
"No, you not sharing what you know—now that's not fair."
He deliberated for a moment as we walked. We stopped outside the door to my first class.
"She wants to know if we're secretly dating. And she wants to know how you feel about me," he finally said.
"Great. What should I say?" I tried to keep my expression neutral. People were passing us on their way to class, probably staring, but I was barely aware of them.
"Hmmm." He paused to smooth a stray lock of hair back into place on my head, "I suppose you could say yes to the first… If you don't mind, that is."
"I… I don't mind." I said faintly, my heart was beating rapidly in my chest.
"And as for her other question… well, I'll be listening to hear the answer to that one myself." One side of his mouth pulled into my favorite uneven smile. My voice caught in my throat and I couldn't respond.
"I'll see you at lunch," he said softly. Then he turned and walked away. Three people walking in the door stopped to stare at me.
I hurried into class, blushing fiercely. Now I was even more worried about what I was going to say to Jessica. This wasn't entirely fair. I sat in my usual seat, slamming by bag down in frustration.
"Morning, Beau," Mike said from the seat next to me. I looked up to see an odd, almost resigned look on his face. "How was Port Angeles?"
"It was…" There really was no honest way to sum it up. "Great," I finished lamely. "Jessica got a really cute dress."
"Did she say anything about Monday night?" he asked, his eyes brightening. I smiled at the turn the conversation had taken.
"She said she had a really good time," I assured him.
"She did?" he said eagerly.
"Most definitely."
Mr. Mason called the class to order then, asking us to turn in our papers. English and then Government passed in a blur. I worried about how to explain things to Jessica and agonized over whether Edward would really be listening to what I said through the medium of Jess's thoughts. How very inconvenient his little talent could be—when it wasn't saving my life.
The fog had almost dissolved by the end of the second hour, but the day was still dark with low, oppressing clouds. I smiled up at the sky.
Edward was right, of course. When I walked into Trig, Jessica was sitting in the back row, nearly bouncing off her seat in excitement. I reluctantly went to sit by her, trying to convince myself it would better to get it over with as soon as possible.
"Tell me everything!" She begged.
"What do you want to know?" I hedged.
"What happened last night?" She was practically squealing.
"He bought me dinner, and then he drove me home."
She glared at me, her expression stiff with skepticism. "How did you get home so fast?"
"He drives like a maniac. It was terrifying." I hoped he heard that.
"Was it like a date—did you tell him to meet you there?"
I hadn't thought of that. "No—I was very surprised to see him there."
Her lips puckered in disappointment at the transparent honesty in my voice.
"But he picked you up for school today?" she probed. "Or…" A wicked grin spread across her face, "Did he stay the night?"
"Jess!" I hissed.
"Well?"
"Of course he didn't." I insisted, "Do you think I could sneak him past my dad?"
She shrugged, still grinning.
"He picked me up this morning. It was also a surprise." I said adamantly.
"Well, are you going out again?"
"He offered to drive me to Seattle Saturday because he thinks my truck isn't up to it—does that count?"
"Yes." She nodded earnestly.
"Well, then, yes."
"W-o-w." She exaggerated the word into three syllables. "Edward Cullen."
"I know," I agreed. 'Wow' didn't even cover it.
"Wait!" Her hands flew up, palms toward me like she was stopping traffic. "He didn't stay the night, but has he kissed you?"
"No," I mumbled. "But… I think he wanted to."
She looked like she might explode with excitement.
"Do you think Saturday…?" She asked expectantly.
"I don't know. I doubt it." I could hear the disappointment in my own voice.
"So what did you talk about?" She pushed for more information in a whisper. Class had started but Mr. Varner wasn't paying close attention and we weren't the only ones still talking.
"I don't know, Jess, lots of stuff," I whispered back.
"Please, Beau," she begged. "Give me some details."
"Well… okay, I've got one. You should have seen the waiter flirting with him—it was over the top. But Edward didn't pay any attention to him at all." Let him make what he could of that.
"That's a good sign," she nodded. "Was he hot?"
"Yeah—and probably nineteen or twenty."
"Even better. He must like you."
"I think so, but it's hard to tell. He's always so cryptic," I threw that in for his benefit, sighing.
"I don't know how you're brave enough to be alone with him," she breathed.
"What? Why?" I was shocked, but she didn't understand my reaction.
"He's so… intimidating. I wouldn't know what to say to him." She made a face, probably remembering this morning or last night, when he'd turned the overwhelming force of his eyes on her.
"Honestly, I don't always know what to say when I'm around him." I admitted.
"Oh well. He is unbelievably gorgeous." Jessica shrugged as if this excused any flaws.
"There's a lot more to him than that."
"Really? Like what?"
I wished I had let it go. Almost as much as I was hoping he'd been kidding about listening in.
"I can't explain it right… but he's more unbelievable behind the face." The vampire who wanted to be good—who ran around saving people's lives so he wouldn't be a monster… I stared toward the front of the room.
"Is that possible?" She giggled.
I didn't respond, I was falling into my own thoughts.
"So you like him, then?" She said, eagerly.
"Yes," I answered.
"I mean, do you really like him?" she urged.
"Yes," I said again, blushing. I hoped that detail wouldn't register in her thoughts.
She'd had enough with the single syllable answers. "How much do you like him?"
"Too much," I whispered back. "More than he likes me. But I don't see how I can help that." I sighed, one blush blending into the next.
Then, thankfully, Mr. Varner called on Jessica for an answer.
She didn't get a chance to start on the subject again during class, and as soon as the bell rang, I took evasive action.
"In English, Mike asked me if you said anything about Monday night," I told her.
"You're kidding! What did you say?!" she gasped, completely sidetracked.
"I told him you said you had a lot of fun— he looked pleased."
"Tell me exactly what he said, and your exact answer!"
We spent the rest of the walk dissecting sentence structures and most of Spanish on a minute description of Mike's facial expressions. I wouldn't have helped draw it out for as long as I did if I wasn't worried about the subject returning to me.
And then the bell rang for lunch. As I jumped up out of my seat, shoving my books roughly in my bag, my uplifted expression must have tipped Jessica off.
"You're not sitting with us today, are you?" she guessed with a sly grin.
"I don't think so." I couldn't be sure that he wouldn't disappear inconveniently again.
But outside the door to our Spanish class, leaning against the wall— looking more handsome than anyone had a right to— Edward was waiting for me. Jessica took one look and started giggling. She poked me in the side, and departed.
"See you later, Beau." Her voice sounded thoroughly amused. I had a feeling I would be getting a phone call from her tonight.
"Hello." His voice was amused and irritated at the same time. He had been listening, it was obvious.
"Hi."
I couldn't think of anything else to say, and he didn't speak— biding his time, I presumed— so it was a quiet walk to the cafeteria. Walking with Edward through the crowded lunchtime rush was a lot like my first day here; everyone stared.
He led the way into the line, still not speaking, though his eyes returned to my face every few seconds, their expression speculative. It seemed to me that irritation was winning out over amusement as the dominant emotion in his face. I fidgeted nervously with the zipper on my jacket.
He stepped up to the counter and filled a tray with food.
"What are you doing?" I objected. "You're not getting all that for me?"
He shook his head, stepping forward to buy the food.
"Half is for me, of course."
I raised one eyebrow.
He led the way to the same place we'd sat that one time before. From the other end of the long table, a group of seniors gazed at us in amazement as we sat across from each other. Edward seemed oblivious.
"Take whatever you want," he said, pushing the tray toward me.
"I'm curious," I said as I picked up an apple, turning it around in my hands, "what would you do if someone dared you to eat food?"
"You're always curious." He grimaced, shaking his head. He glared at me, holding my eyes as he took the apple from my hand. He took a deliberate bite out of it, chewed a mouthful, and then swallowed. I watched; eyes wide.
"If someone dared you to eat dirt, you could, couldn't you?" he asked.
I wrinkled my nose. "I did once… on a dare," I admitted. "It wasn't so bad."
He laughed. "I suppose I'm not surprised." Something over my shoulder seemed to catch his attention.
"Jessica's analyzing everything I do—she'll break it down for you later." He handed the apple back to me. The mention of Jessica brought a hint of his former irritation back to his features.
I took a bite of the apple, looking away, knowing he was about to start.
"So the waiter was attractive, was he?" he asked casually.
"He was hot. You really didn't notice?"
"No. I wasn't paying attention to him."
"Poor guy." I felt pleased.
"Something you said to Jessica… well, it bothers me." He refused to be distracted. His voice was husky, and he glanced up from under his lashes with troubled eyes.
"I'm not surprised you heard something you didn't like. You shouldn't be eavesdropping," I responded honestly.
"I warned you I would be listening."
"And I warned you that you didn't want to know everything I was thinking."
"You did," he agreed, but his voice was still rough. "You aren't precisely right, though. I do want to know what you're thinking—everything. I just wish… that you wouldn't be thinking some things."
I raised an eyebrow. "That's quite a distinction."
"But that's not really the point at the moment."
"Then what is?" We were leaning toward each other across the table now. He had his large white hands folded under his chin; I leaned forward, my right hand cupped around my neck. I had to remind myself that we were in a crowded lunchroom, with probably many curious eyes on us. It was too easy to get wrapped up in our own private, tense little bubble.
"Do you truly believe that you care more for me than I do for you?" His voice was barely above a whisper, leaning closer to me as he spoke, his dark golden eyes piercing.
I felt that tingling sensation again, sending currents down my back and limbs. I looked away in an attempt to collect myself.
"You're doing it again," I muttered.
His eyes opened wide with surprise. "What?"
"Dazzling me," I admitted, trying to concentrate as I looked back at him.
"Oh." He frowned.
"It's not your fault," I sighed. "You can't help it."
"Are you going to answer the question?"
I looked down. "Yes."
"Yes, you are going to answer, or yes you really think that?" The irritation was rising in his voice.
"Yes, I really think that." I sighed. My eyes traced the pattern of the faux wood grains printed on the table laminate. The silence dragged on. I refused to be the one to always break these silences.
Finally he spoke, voice velvet soft. "You're wrong, Beau."
I glanced up to see that his eyes were gentle.
"You can't know that," I disagreed softly. I shook my head in doubt, thought my heart throbbed at his words and I wanted so badly to believe them.
"What makes you think so?" His golden eyes were penetrating—trying desperately to read my mind; to find the truth.
I stared back, struggling with my thoughts, to find some way to explain. As I searched for the words, I could see him getting impatient; frustrated by my silence, and frustrated that he couldn't just read my mind and get his answer, he started to scowl. I lifted my hand from my neck, and held up one finger.
"Let me think," I insisted.
His expression cleared, now that he was satisfied that I was planning to answer. I dropped my hand to the table, moving my left hand so that my palms were pressed together. I stared at my hands, twisting and untwisting my fingers, as I finally spoke.
"Well, aside from the obvious, sometimes…" I hesitated. "I can't be sure—I don't know how to read minds—but sometimes it seems like you're trying to say goodbye when you're saying something else." That was the best way I could sum of the sensation of anguish I detected in his words and eyes at times.
"Perceptive," he whispered. I felt a sense of disappointment as he confirmed my fears. "That's exactly why you're wrong, though," he began to explain, but then his eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, 'the obvious'?"
"Well, I mean…," I sighed, "I'm absolutely ordinary. There's nothing particularly special about me. I'm not the only one in this school who finds you attractive, I'm not exceptionally talented at anything, I'm as interesting as the next guy, but I'm just ordinary—average. Aside from some unfortunate near-death experiences and a talent for tripping over my own feet, I'm not… special."
His brow creased for a moment, deeply upset, then smoothed as his eyes took on a knowing look. "You don't see yourself very clearly, you know. I'll admit you are correct about the bad things," he chuckled blackly, "but you don't see how fascinating you really are."
I blinked a few times, "I don't believe that." I mumbled.
"Trust me just this once—you are the opposite of ordinary."
"Is that true? Or are you just fascinated with me because I'm the one person whose mind you can't read?" This was something that had been bothering me. I wasn't trying to be self-deprecating; I just genuinely felt that I was average. I was, for lack of a better word, normal. And Edward was decidedly not. So why, I had to wonder, would a beautiful vampire just randomly choose an average human? The most obvious reason was because Edward couldn't read my mind.
Edward stared at me, his expression incredulous.
"I'll admit it does frustrate me that I can't read your mind," he began slowly, "but believe me, Beau, you are so much more complicated than you give yourself credit for. You are intelligent and perceptive, you're remarkably mature," he started speaking quickly now, "You see those around you in a way most simply don't. You see the world in a way most are unable." He sighed, "When I realized I couldn't read your mind I began searching everyone else's minds to find out as much about you as I could. Everything I saw only made me sure that you are… one of a kind." He said finally. "And all those words are not enough to describe why you are anything but ordinary." He said finally, sounding almost frustrated.
My embarrassment was much stronger than my pleasure at the look that came into his eyes when he said all this. I sat for a moment, stunned. I could feel my heart beating wildly against my chest.
"But… why are you always trying to say goodbye? I'm not saying goodbye." I pointed out amidst my embarrassment.
"Don't you see? That's what proves me right. Don't you see how much it hurts me to say goodbye to you? Even if just for a night? I care the most, because if I can do it"—he shook his head, seeming to struggle with the thought—"if leaving is the right thing to do, then I'll hurt myself to keep from hurting you, to keep you safe."
I glared. "And you don't think I would do the same?"
"You'd never have to make the choice."
Abruptly, his unpredictable mood shifted again; a mischievous, devastating smile rearranged his features. "Of course, keeping you safe is beginning to feel like a full-time occupation that requires my constant presence."
"No one has tried to do away with me today," I reminded him, grateful for the lighter subject. I couldn't handle hearing more reasons why he found me 'the opposite of ordinary'—my heart was still pounding in my chest—and I didn't want to talk about goodbyes anymore.
"Yet," he added.
"Yes," I agreed. "Though I think maybe you're just looking for an excuse to be around me." I half-joked.
"Maybe I am." He smiled.
I turned bright red.
"I have another question for you." His face was casual, and still smiling.
"Sure."
"Do you really need to go to Seattle this Saturday, or was that just an excuse to get out of saying no to all your admirers?"
I made a face at the memory. "You know, I haven't forgiven you for the Tyler thing yet," I warned him. "It's your fault that he's deluded himself into thinking he's taking me to prom."
"Oh, he would have found a chance to ask you without me—I just really wanted to watch your face," he chuckled. I would have been more annoyed if his laughter wasn't so charming. "If I'd asked you, would you have turned me down?" He asked, still laughing to himself.
"I don't think I'll tell you." I said, curtly. "That's my revenge."
He started laughing all over again.
"Oh, you are cruel, aren't you?" his eyes were bright with amusement.
"Besides, as you like to point out; I have coordination issues. I'm a terrible dancer." I admitted.
"That wouldn't be a problem." He was very confident. "It's all in the leading." He could see that I was about to protest, and he cut me off. "But you never told me—are you resolved on going to Seattle, or do you mind if we do something different."
My mind raced with the many possibilities of 'something different.'
"I'm open to alternatives," I allowed. "But I do have a favor to ask."
He looked wary, as he always did when I asked an open-ended question.
"What?"
"Can I drive?"
He frowned. "Why?"
"Well, mostly because when I told Charlie I was going to Seattle, he specifically asked if I was going alone and, at the time, I was. If he asked again, I probably wouldn't lie, but I don't think he will ask again, and leaving my truck at home would just bring up the subject unnecessarily. And also, if I'm being brutally honest here, your driving frightens me."
He rolled his eyes. "Of all the things about me that could frighten you, you worry about my driving." He shook his head in disbelief, but then his eyes were serious again. "Won't you want to tell your father that you're spending the day with me?" There was an undercurrent to his question that I didn't understand.
"With Charlie, less is always more." I said, trying to be vague. Charlie and I had never discussed my love life—I had never had one to discuss, really—but Charlie had thought that maybe I was taking Jess or Angela to the prom so clearly we had never talked about what my theoretical love life would even look like and I knew I couldn't talk about Edward without betraying my true feelings about him to Charlie.
"Where are we going, anyway?" I asked, trying to change the subject.
"The weather will be nice, so I'll be staying out of the public eye… and you can stay with me, if you'd like to." Again, he was leaving the choice up to me.
"And you'll show me what you meant, about the sun?" I asked, excited by the idea of unraveling another of the unknowns.
"Yes." He smiled, and then paused. "But if you don't want to be… alone with me, I'd still rather you didn't go to Seattle by yourself. I shudder to think of the trouble you could find in a city that size."
I was miffed. "Phoenix is three times bigger than Seattle—just in population. In physical size—"
"But apparently," he interrupted me, "your number wasn't up in Phoenix. So I'd rather you stayed near me." His eyes did that unfair smoldering thing again.
"Again, I think you're just trying to make excuses to be together."
He smiled, guiltily.
"And as I happens," I continued, "I don't mind being alone with you."
"I know," He sighed, brooding now. "You should tell Charlie, though."
"Why in the world would I do that?"
His eyes were suddenly fierce. "To give me some small incentive to bring you back."
He exhaled angrily, and looked away.
"You really should learn to control your temper." I glared at him.
His eyes snapped to me, he looked surprised.
"I beg your pardon?" He sounded genuinely surprised.
"You should learn to control your temper." I said it again, with conviction.
He started to look angry again. I imagine it wasn't often anyone called him out on his temper. Finally, he sighed and started to chuckle to himself.
"You really are remarkable, Beau." He smiled fondly at me.
I blushed all over again, "Let's talk about something else." I stammered.
"What do you want to talk about?" He asked.
I glanced around us, making sure we were well out of anyone's hearing. As I cast my eyes around the room, I caught the eyes of his sister, Alice, staring at me. The others were looking at Edward. I looked away swiftly, back to him, and I asked the first thing that came to mind.
"Why did you go to that Goat Rocks place last weekend…to hunt? Charlie said it wasn't a good place to hike, because of bears."
He stared at me as if I was missing something very obvious.
"Bears?" I gasped, and he smirked. "You know, bears are not in season." I added sternly, to hide my shock.
"If you read carefully, the laws only cover hunting with weapons," he informed me.
He watched my face with enjoyment as that slowly sank in.
"Bears?" I repeated with difficulty.
"Grizzly is Emmett's favorite." His voice was still off-hand, but his eyes were scrutinizing my reaction. I tried to pull myself together.
"Hmmm," I said, taking another bite of the apple as an excuse to look down. I chewed slowly, and then took a long drink of Coke without looking up.
"So," I said after a moment, finally meeting his now-anxious gaze. "What's your favorite?"
He raised an eyebrow and the corners of his mouth turned down in disapproval.
"Mountain lion."
"Ah," I said in a politely disinterested tone, looking for my soda again.
"Of course," he said, and his tone mirrored mine, "we have to be careful not to impact the environment with injudicious hunting. We try to focus on areas with an overpopulation of predators—ranging as far away as we need. There's always plenty of deer and elk here, and they'll do, but here's the fun in that?" He smiled teasingly.
"Where indeed," I murmured around another bite of apple.
"Early spring is Emmett's favorite bear season—they're just coming out of hibernation, so they're more irritable." He smiled at some remembered joke.
"Nothing more fun than an irritated grizzly bear," I agreed, nodding.
He snickered, shaking his head. "Tell me what you're really thinking, please."
"Honestly, I'm trying to picture it—but I can't," I admitted. "How do you hunt a bear without weapons?"
"Oh, we have weapons." He flashed his bright teeth in a brief, threatening smile. I fought back a shiver before it could expose me. "Just not the kind they consider when writing hunting laws. If you've ever seen a bear attack on television, you should be able to visualize Emmett hunting."
I couldn't stop the next shiver that flashed down my spine. I peeked across the cafeteria toward Emmett, grateful that he wasn't looking my way. The thick bands of muscle that wrapped his arms and torso were somehow even more menacing now.
Edward followed my gaze and chuckled. "Don't let Royal catch you staring. He's prone to jealousy." He was probably just teasing me, but I couldn't be sure.
My eyes snapped back to Edward, unnerved.
"Are you like a bear, too?" I asked in a low voice.
"More like the lion, or so they tell me," he said lightly. "Perhaps our preferences are indicative."
I tried to smile. "Perhaps," I repeated. But my mind was filled with opposing images that I couldn't merge together. "Is that something I might get to see?"
"Absolutely not!" His face turned even whiter than usual, and his eyes were suddenly furious. I leaned back, stunned and—though I'd never admit it to him—frightened by his reaction.
"Temper, Edward!" I snapped in response.
He leaned back against his chair, and folded his arms across his chest.
"So, what? Too scary for me?" I asked when I could control my voice again.
"If that were it, I would take you out tonight," he said, his voice cutting. "You need a healthy dose of fear. Nothing could be more beneficial for you."
"Then why?" I pressed, trying to ignore his poor attitude.
He glared at me for a long minute.
"Later," he finally said with a sigh. He was on his feet in one lithe movement. "We're going to be late."
I glanced around, startled to see that he was right and the cafeteria was nearly vacant. When I was with him, the time and the place just seemed not to matter—like we were in our own world. I jumped up, grabbing my back from the back of my chair.
"Later, then," I agreed. I wouldn't forget.