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Surely it was a good way to die, in the place of someone else, someone I loved.
When life offers you a dream so far beyond any of your expectations, it’s not reasonable to grieve when it comes to an end.
“Hello,” said a quiet, musical voice. I looked up, stunned that he was speaking to me. He was sitting as far away from me as the desk allowed, but his chair was angled toward me. His hair was dripping wet, disheveled—even so, he looked like he’d just finished shooting a commercial for hair gel. His dazzling face was friendly, open, a slight smile on his flawless lips. But his eyes were careful. “My name is Edward Cullen,” he continued. “I didn’t have a chance to introduce myself last week. You must be Bella Swan.”
“Did you get contacts?” I blurted out unthinkingly. He seemed puzzled by my unexpected question. “No.”
“On the contrary, I find you very difficult to read.”
“I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere. “I’m being very rude, I know. But it’s better this way, really.” I opened my eyes. His face was very serious. “I don’t know what you mean,” I said, my voice guarded. “It’s better if we’re not friends,” he explained. “Trust me.”
“I decided as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly.”
“What if I’m not a superhero? What if I’m the bad guy?”
“You’re Isabella Swan, aren’t you?” It was like the first day of school all over again. “Bella,” I sighed. “I’m Jacob Black.” He held his hand out in a friendly gesture. “You bought my dad’s truck.”
“How old are you?” “Seventeen,” he answered promptly. “And how long have you been seventeen?” His lips twitched as he stared at the road. “A while,” he admitted at last.
About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Edward was a vampire. Second, there was part of him—and I didn’t know how potent that part might be—that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.
“It’s twilight,” Edward murmured, looking at the western horizon, obscured as it was with clouds.
“I like the night. Without the dark, we’d never see the stars.”
“You are the most important thing to me now. The most important thing to me ever.”
“And so the lion fell in love with the lamb . . .” he murmured. I looked away, hiding my eyes as I thrilled to the word. “What a stupid lamb,” I sighed. “What a sick, masochistic lion.”
“Breakfast time,” he said eventually, casually—to prove, I’m sure, that he remembered all my human frailties. So I clutched my throat with both hands and stared at him with wide eyes. Shock crossed his face. “Kidding!” I snickered. “And you said I couldn’t act!” He frowned in disgust. “That wasn’t funny.” “It was very funny, and you know it.” But I examined his gold eyes carefully, to make sure that I was forgiven. Apparently, I was. “Shall I rephrase?” he asked. “Breakfast time for the human.”
“I love you,” he said. “It’s a poor excuse for what I’m doing, but it’s still true.”
“I think that boy is in love with you,” she accused, keeping her voice low. “I think so, too,” I confided.
“I can’t always be Lois Lane,” I insisted. “I want to be Superman, too.”
“Twilight, again,” he murmured. “Another ending. No matter how perfect the day is, it always has to end.”
And he leaned down to press his cold lips once more to my throat.
