Midnight Sun (The Twilight Saga #5) - Stephenie Meyer Page 0,108

through my humor.

“Easy, Rose,” I heard Emmett whisper from across the cafeteria. His arm was around her shoulders, holding her tight into his side—restraining her.

Sorry, Edward, Alice thought guiltily. She could tell Bella knew too much from your conversation… and, well, it would have been worse if I hadn’t told her the truth right away. Trust me on that.

I winced at the mental picture that followed, at what would have happened if I’d admitted to Rosalie that Bella knew I was a vampire when we were at home, where Rosalie didn’t have a façade to keep up. I’d have to hide my Aston Martin somewhere out of state if she didn’t calm down by the time school was over. The sight of my favorite car, mangled and burning, was upsetting—though I knew I’d earned the retribution.

Jasper was not much happier.

I’d deal with the others later. I only had so much time allotted to be with Bella, and I wasn’t going to waste it.

Edward and Bella look cozy, don’t they? As I tried to ignore Rosalie, Jessica’s thoughts intruded. This time I didn’t mind the interruption. Good body language. I’ll give Bella my take later. He’s leaning toward her just the way he should if he’s interested. He looks interested. He looks… perfect. Jessica sighed. Yum.

I met Jessica’s curious eyes, and she looked away nervously, cringing back into her seat. Hmmm. Probably better to stick to Mike. Reality, not fantasy.…

Little time had passed, but Bella had noticed my abstraction.

“Jessica’s analyzing everything I do,” I said, using the lesser distraction as my excuse. “She’ll break it down for you later.”

Rosalie’s outrage continued, a caustic inner monologue that barely paused for a second or two as she searched her memory for fresh insults to hurl my way. I forced the sound into the background, determined to be present with Bella.

I pushed the plate of food back toward Bella—pizza, I realized—wondering how best to begin. My former frustration flared as her words repeated in my head: More than he likes me. But I don’t see how I can help that.

She took a bite from the same slice of pizza. It amazed me how trusting she was. Of course, she didn’t know I was venomous—not that sharing food would hurt her. Still, I expected her to treat me differently. As something other. She never did.

I would start off gently.

“So the waitress was pretty, was she?”

She raised the eyebrow again. “You really didn’t notice?”

As if any woman could hope to capture my attention from Bella. Absurd, again.

“No. I wasn’t paying attention. I had a lot on my mind.”

“Poor girl,” Bella said, smiling.

She liked that I hadn’t found the waitress interesting in any way. I could understand that. How many times had I imagined crippling Mike Newton in the Biology room?

But she couldn’t honestly believe that her human feelings, the fruition of seventeen short mortal years, could be stronger than this demolition ball of emotion that had wrecked me after a century of emptiness?

“Something you said to Jessica…” I couldn’t keep my voice casual. “Well, it bothers me.”

She was immediately on the defensive. “I’m not surprised you heard something you didn’t like. You know what they say about eavesdroppers.”

Eavesdroppers never hear any good of themselves, that was the saying.

“I warned you I would be listening,” I reminded her.

“And I warned you that you didn’t want to know everything I was thinking.”

Ah, she was thinking of when I’d made her cry. Remorse made my voice thicker. “You did. 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.”

More half lies. I knew I shouldn’t want her to care about me. But I did. Of course I did.

“That’s quite a distinction,” she grumbled, scowling at me.

“But that’s not really the point at the moment.”

“Then what is?”

She leaned toward me, her hand cupped lightly around her throat. It drew my eye—distracted me. How soft that skin must feel…

Focus, I commanded myself.

“Do you truly believe that you care more for me than I do for you?” I asked. The question sounded ridiculous to me, as though the words were scrambled.

She froze for a moment; even her breathing stopped. Then she looked away, blinking quickly. Her breath came in a low gasp.

“You’re doing it again,” she murmured.

“What?”

“Dazzling me,” she admitted, meeting my eyes warily.

“Oh.” I wasn’t quite sure what to do about that. I was still thrilled that I could dazzle her. But it wasn’t helping the progress of