Midnight Sun (The Twilight Saga #5) - Stephenie Meyer Page 0,85

are you feeling?” I asked.

She blinked, surprised by the question. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t feel dizzy, sick, cold?”

She was even more confused now. “Should I?”

“Well, I’m actually waiting for you to go into shock.” I half smiled, expecting her denial. She would not want to be taken care of.

It took her a moment to answer me. Her eyes were slightly unfocused. She looked that way sometimes when I smiled at her. Was she… dazzled?

I would have loved to believe that.

“I don’t think that will happen. I’ve always been very good at repressing unpleasant things,” she answered, a little breathless.

Did she have a lot of practice with unpleasant things, then? Was her life always this hazardous?

“Just the same,” I told her, “I’ll feel better when you have some sugar and food in you.”

The waitress returned with the Cokes and a basket of bread. She put them in front of me and asked for my order, trying to catch my eye in the process. I indicated that she should attend to Bella, and then went back to tuning her out. She had a vulgar mind.

“Um…” Bella glanced quickly at the menu. “I’ll have the mushroom ravioli.”

The waitress turned back to me eagerly. “And you?”

“Nothing for me.”

Bella made a slight face. Hmm. She must have noticed that I never ate food. She noticed everything. And I always forgot to be careful around her.

I waited till we were alone again.

“Drink,” I insisted.

I was surprised when she complied immediately and without objection. She drank until the glass was entirely empty, so I pushed the second Coke toward her, frowning a little. Thirst, or shock?

She drank a little more, and then shuddered once.

“Are you cold?”

“It’s just the Coke,” she said, but she shivered again, her lips trembling slightly as if her teeth were about to chatter.

The pretty blouse she wore looked too thin to protect her adequately. It clung to her like a second skin, almost as fragile as the first. “Don’t you have a jacket?”

“Yes.” She looked around herself, a little perplexed. “Oh—I left it in Jessica’s car.”

I pulled off my jacket, wishing that the gesture was not marred by my body temperature. It would have been nice to offer her a warm coat. She stared at me, her cheeks flushing again. What was she thinking now?

I handed her the jacket across the table, and she put it on at once, and then shuddered again.

Yes, it would be very nice to be warm.

“Thanks,” she said. She took a deep breath, and then pushed the too-long sleeves back to free her hands. She took another deep breath.

Was the evening finally settling in? Her color was still good. Her skin was cream and roses against the deep blue of her shirt.

“That color blue looks lovely with your skin,” I complimented her. Just being honest.

She looked well, but there was no point in taking chances. I pushed the basket of bread toward her.

“Really,” she objected, guessing my motives. “I’m not going into shock.”

“You should be—a normal person would be. You don’t even look shaken.” I stared at her, disapproving, wondering why she couldn’t be normal and then wondering whether I really wanted her to be that way.

“I feel very safe with you,” she explained, her eyes again filled with trust. Trust I didn’t deserve.

Her instincts were all wrong—backward. That must be the problem. She didn’t recognize danger the way a human being should be able to. She had the opposite reaction. Instead of running, she lingered, drawn to what should frighten her.

How could I protect her from myself when neither of us wanted that?

“This is more complicated than I’d planned,” I murmured.

I could see her turning my words over in her head, and I wondered what she made of them. She took a breadstick and began to eat without seeming aware of the action. She chewed for a moment, and then leaned her head to one side thoughtfully.

“Usually you’re in a better mood when your eyes are so light,” she said in a casual tone.

Her observation, stated so matter-of-factly, left me reeling. “What?”

“You’re always crabbier when your eyes are black—I expect it then. I have a theory about that,” she added lightly.

So she had come up with her own explanation. Of course she had. I felt a deep sense of dread as I wondered how close she’d come to the truth.

“More theories?”

“Mm-hm.” She chewed on another bite, entirely nonchalant. As if she weren’t discussing the aspects of a demon with the demon himself.

“I hope you were more creative this