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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.
Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same things through my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs.
Maybe there was a glitch in my brain.
At that precise moment, his eyes flashed
“Edward Cullen is staring at you,”
I couldn’t fathom his interest, but he continued to stare at me with penetrating eyes, as if my dull life’s story was somehow vitally important.
His gaze became appraising. “You put on a good show,” he said slowly. “But I’d be willing to bet that you’re suffering more than you let anyone see.”
I’m more annoyed at myself. My face is so easy to read—my
“On the contrary, I find you very difficult to read.”
I was in disbelief that I’d just explained my dreary life to this bizarre, beautiful boy who may or may not despise me.
He unleashed the full, devastating power of his eyes on me, as if trying to communicate something crucial.
“Nobody will believe that, you know.” His voice held an edge of derision now. “I’m not going to tell anybody.” I said each word slowly, carefully controlling my anger. Surprise flitted across his face. “Then why does it matter?” “It matters to me,”
