Twilight (Twilight, #1)

by Stephenie Meyer

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.

If I was being honest with myself, I knew I was eager to get to school because I would see Edward Cullen.

Because when I thought of him, of his voice, his hypnotic eyes, the magnetic force of his personality, I wanted nothing more than to be with him right now.

“It makes me… anxious… to be away from you.”

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.

“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.”

“If I could dream at all, it would be about you. And I’m not ashamed of it.”

“I love you,” I whispered. “You are my life now,” he answered simply.

“He called you pretty,” he finally continued, his frown deepening. “That’s practically an insult, the way you look right now. You’re much more than beautiful.”