To call this other vehicle a motorcycle hardly seemed fair, since it didn’t seem to belong to the same family as my suddenly shabby-looking bike. It was big and sleek and silver and—even totally motionless—it looked fast. “What is that?” “Nothing,” Edward murmured. “It doesn’t look like nothing.” Edward’s expression was casual; he seemed determined to blow it off. “Well, I didn’t know if you were going to forgive your friend, or he you, and I wondered if you would still want to ride your bike anyway. It sounded like it was something that you enjoyed. I thought I could go with you, if you
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