breaking the nose or shoving it into the brain. Finger through the eye
socket — try to hook around and pop the eye out. And the standard knee to
the groin, of course. That same pessimistic voice in my mind spoke up
then, reminding me that I probably wouldn't have a chance against one of
them, and there were four. Shut up! I commanded the voice before terror
could incapacitate me. I wasn't going out without taking someone with me.
I tried to swallow so I could build up a decent scream.
Headlights suddenly flew around the corner, the car almost hitting the
stocky one, forcing him to jump back toward the sidewalk. I dove into the
road — this car was going to stop, or have to hit me. But the silver car
unexpectedly fishtailed around, skidding to a stop with the passenger
door open just a few feet from me.
"Get in," a furious voice commanded.
It was amazing how instantaneously the choking fear vanished, amazing how
suddenly the feeling of security washed over me — even before I was off
the street — as soon as I heard his voice. I jumped into the seat,
slamming the door shut behind me.
It was dark in the car, no light had come on with the opening of the
door, and I could barely see his face in the glow from the dashboard. The
tires squealed as he spun around to face north, accelerating too quickly,
swerving toward the stunned men on the street. I caught a glimpse of them
diving for the sidewalk as we straightened out and sped toward the harbor.
"Put on your seat belt," he commanded, and I realized I was clutching the
seat with both hands. I quickly obeyed; the snap as the belt connected
was loud in the darkness. He took a sharp left, racing forward, blowing
through several stop signs without a pause.
But I felt utterly safe and, for the moment, totally unconcerned about
where we were going. I stared at his face in profound relief, relief that
went beyond my sudden deliverance. I studied his flawless features in the
limited light, waiting for my breath to return to normal, until it
occurred to me that his expression was murderously angry.
"Are you okay?" I asked, surprised at how hoarse my voice sounded.
"No," he said curtly, and his tone was livid.
I sat in silence, watching his face while his blazing eyes stared
straight ahead, until the car came to a sudden stop. I glanced around,
but it was too dark to see anything beside the vague outline of dark
trees crowding the roadside. We weren't in town anymore.
"Bella?" he asked, his voice tight, controlled.
"Yes?" My voice was still rough. I tried to clear my throat quietly.
"Are you all right?" He still didn't look at me, but the fury was plain
on his face.
"Yes," I croaked softly.
"Distract me, please," he ordered.
"I'm sorry, what?"
He exhaled sharply.
"Just prattle about something unimportant until I calm down," he
clarified, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose with his
thumb and forefinger.
"Um." I wracked my brain for something trivial. "I'm going to run over
Tyler Crowley tomorrow before school?"
He was still squeezing his eyes closed, but the corner of his mouth
twitched.
"Why?"
"He's telling everyone that he's taking me to prom — either he's insane
or he's still trying to make up for almost killing me last… well, you
remember it, and he thinks prom is somehow the correct way to do this. So
I figure if I endanger his life, then we're even, and he can't keep
trying to make amends. I don't need enemies and maybe Lauren would back
off if he left me alone. I might have to total his Sentra, though. If he
doesn't have a ride he can't take anyone to prom…" I babbled on.
"I heard about that." He sounded a bit more composed.
"You did?" I asked in disbelief, my previous irritation flaring. "If he's
paralyzed from the neck down, he can't go to the prom, either," I
muttered, refining my plan.
Edward sighed, and finally opened his eyes.
"Better?"
"Not really."
I waited, but he didn't speak again. He leaned his head back against the
seat, staring at the ceiling of the car. His face was rigid.
"What's wrong?" My voice came out in a whisper.
"Sometimes I have a problem with my temper, Bella." He was whispering,
too, and as he stared out the window, his eyes narrowed into slits. "But
it wouldn't be helpful for me to turn around and hunt down those…" He
didn't finish his sentence, looking away, struggling for a moment to
control his anger again. "At least," he continued, "that's what I'm
trying to convince myself."
"Oh." The word seemed inadequate, but I couldn't think of a better
response.
We sat in silence again. I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was
past six-thirty.
"Jessica and Angela will be worried," I murmured. "I was supposed to meet
them."
He started the engine without another word, turning around smoothly and
speeding back toward town. We were under the streetlights in no time at
all, still going too fast, weaving with ease through the cars slowly
cruising the boardwalk. He parallel-parked against the curb in a space I
would have thought much too small for the Volvo, but he slid in
effortlessly in one try. I looked out the window to see the lights of La
Bella Italia, and Jess and Angela just leaving, pacing anxiously away
from us.
"How did you know where… ?" I began, but then I just shook my head. I
heard the door open and turned to see him getting out.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"I'm taking you to dinner." He smiled slightly, but his eyes were hard.
He stepped out of the car and slammed the door. I fumbled with my seat
belt, and then hurried to get out of the car as well. He was waiting for
me on the sidewalk.
He spoke before I could. "Go stop Jessica and Angela before I have to
track them down, too. I don't think I could restrain myself if I ran into
your other friends again."
I shivered at the threat in his voice.
"Jess! Angela!" I yelled after them, waving when they turned. They rushed
back to me, the pronounced relief on both their faces simultaneously
changing to surprise as they saw who I was standing next to. They
hesitated a few feet from us.
"Where have you been?" Jessica's voice was suspicious.
"I got lost," I admitted sheepishly. "And then I ran into Edward." I
gestured toward him.
"Would it be all right if I joined you?" he asked in his silken,
irresistible voice. I could see from their staggered expressions that he
had never unleashed his talents on them before.
"Er… sure," Jessica breathed.
"Um, actually, Bella, we already ate while we were waiting — sorry,"
Angela confessed.
"That's fine — I'm not hungry." I shrugged.
"I think you should eat something." Edward's voice was low, but full of
authority. He looked up at Jessica and spoke slightly louder. "Do you
mind if I drive Bella home tonight? That way you won't have to wait while
she eats."
"Uh, no problem, I guess…" She bit her lip, trying to figure out from my
expression whether that was what I wanted. I winked at her. I wanted
nothing more than to be alone with my perpetual savior. There were so
many questions that I couldn't bombard him with till we were by ourselves.
"Okay." Angela was quicker than Jessica. "See you tomorrow, Bella…
Edward." She grabbed Jessica's hand and pulled her toward the car, which
I could see a little ways away, parked across First Street. As they got
in, Jess turned and waved, her face eager with curiosity. I waved back,
waiting for them to drive away before I turned to face him.
"Honestly, I'm not hungry," I insisted, looking up to scrutinize his
face. His expression was unreadable.
"Humor me."
He walked to the door of the restaurant and held it open with an
obstinate expression. Obviously, there would be no further discussion. I
walked past him into the restaurant with a resigned sigh.
The restaurant wasn't crowded — it was the off-season in Port Angeles.
The host was female, and I understood the look in her eyes as she
assessed Edward. She welcomed him a little more warmly than necessary. I
was surprised by how much that bothered me. She was several inches taller
than I was, and unnaturally blond.
"A table for two?" His voice was alluring, whether he was aiming for that
or not. I saw her eyes flicker to me and then away, satisfied by my
obvious ordinariness, and by the cautious, no-contact space Edward kept
between us. She led us to a table big enough for four in the center of
the most crowded area of the dining floor.
I was about to sit, but Edward shook his head at me.
"Perhaps something more private?" he insisted quietly to the host. I
wasn't sure, but it looked like he smoothly handed her a tip. I'd never
seen anyone refuse a table except in old movies.
"Sure." She sounded as surprised as I was. She turned and led us around a
partition to a small ring of booths — all of them empty. "How's this?"
"Perfect." He flashed his gleaming smile, dazing her momentarily.
"Um" — she shook her head, blinking — "your server will be right out."
She walked away unsteadily.
"You really shouldn't do that to people," I criticized. "It's hardly
fair."
"Do what?"
"Dazzle them like that — she's probably hyperventilating in the kitchen
right now."
He seemed confused.
"Oh, come on," I said dubiously. "You have to know the effect you have on
people."
He tilted his head to one side, and his eyes were curious. "I dazzle
people?"
"You haven't noticed? Do you think everybody gets their way so easily?"
He ignored my questions. "Do I dazzle you?"
"Frequently," I admitted.
And then our server arrived, her face expectant. The hostess had
definitely dished behind the scenes, and this new girl didn't look
disappointed. She flipped a strand of short black hair behind one ear and
smiled with unnecessary warmth.
"Hello. My name is Amber, and I'll be your server tonight. What can I get
you to drink?" I didn't miss that she was speaking only to him.
He looked at me.
"I'll have a Coke." It sounded like a question.
"Two Cokes," he said.
"I'll be right back with that," she assured him with another unnecessary
smile. But he didn't see it. He was watching me.
"What?" I asked when she left.
His eyes stayed fixed on my face. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine," I replied, surprised by his intensity.
"You don't feel dizzy, sick, cold… ?"
"Should I?"
He chuckled at my puzzled tone.
"Well, I'm actually waiting for you to go into shock." His face twisted
up into that perfect crooked smile.
"I don't think that will happen," I said after I could breathe again.
"I've always been very good at repressing unpleasant things."
"Just the same, I'll feel better when you have some sugar and food in
you."
Right on cue, the waitress appeared with our drinks and a basket of
breadsticks. She stood with her back to me as she placed them on the
table.
"Are you ready to order?" she asked Edward.
"Bella?" he asked. She turned unwillingly toward me.
I picked the first thing I saw on the menu. "Um… I'll have the mushroom
ravioli."
"And you?" She turned back to him with a smile.
"Nothing for me," he said. Of course not.
"Let me know if you change your mind." The coy smile was still in place,
but he wasn't looking at her, and she left dissatisfied.
"Drink," he ordered.
I sipped at my soda obediently, and then drank more deeply, surprised by
how thirsty I was. I realized I had finished the whole thing when he
pushed his glass toward me.
"Thanks," I muttered, still thirsty. The cold from the icy soda was
radiating through my chest, and I shivered.
"Are you cold?"
"It's just the Coke," I explained, shivering again.
"Don't you have a jacket?" His voice was disapproving.
"Yes." I looked at the empty bench next to me. "Oh — I left it in
Jessica's car," I realized.
Edward was shrugging out of his jacket. I suddenly realized that I had
never once noticed what he was wearing — not just tonight, but ever. I
just couldn't seem to look away from his face. I made myself look now,
focusing. He was removing a light beige leather jacket now; underneath he
wore an ivory turtleneck sweater. It fit him snugly, emphasizing how
muscular his chest was.
He handed me the jacket, interrupting my ogling.
"Thanks," I said again, sliding my arms into his jacket. It was cold —
the way my jacket felt when I first picked it up in the morning, hanging
in the drafty hallway. I shivered again. It smelled amazing. I inhaled,
trying to identify the delicious scent. It didn't smell like cologne. The
sleeves were much too long; I shoved them back so I could free my hands.
"That color blue looks lovely with your skin," he said, watching me. I
was surprised; I looked down, flushing, of course.
He pushed the bread basket toward me.
