Mike calls Thursday night, to express his concern for me one more time.

I tell him I'm okay and there's nothing he can do because I just buried my boyfriend and of course I'm really not that okay.

"I just want you to know I'm here for you, Bella. If you need me."

It's weird. Does he want a second chance? Does he want to be the rebound guy?

Or maybe he is loving every minute of my grief and unhappiness.

Maybe he's thinking I had it coming.

And maybe, just maybe, I did.

Dare: a challenge to do something dangerous or foolhardy.

I dare you.

Three stupid words.

I dared him to order octopus at a restaurant and to eat it all. He dared me to write a love letter, sign it secret admirer, and sneak it to a teacher. I dared him to pretend he was blind in the crystal section of the department store.

This game, or whatever it was, became our little thing.

Edward, the rock climber, the white – water rafter, the extreme skier guy, loved the feel of adrenaline ROARING through his veins.

For me, it was scary, and exhilarating, all at the same time. But I could have lived without it.

All I needed was Edward.

I wish all he'd needed was me.

I can hear my heart beat beat beating in the darkness as I try to go to sleep.

The clock says 12:08

Mom is asleep by now.

I get up and go down stairs to make hot cocoa.

Will he be there waiting for me?

My heart is beat beat beating faster, even through there's no sign of him.

When the hot cocoa is done, I put marshmallows in. I stir slowly, watching them melt into each other.

I think of Edward. His touch, his kisses, and the way he looked at me, with eyes like a green ocean.

I take a sip, and the cocoa's so hot it burns my tongue.

Hot. Cold. Hot. Cold.

I shiver.

"Edward?"

I spin around and around and around like a top on a wooden floor.

"Where are you? Show me you're here please?"

I stop I stand still I wait.

There is just enough light from the full moon shinning through the kitchen window.

The white, frilly curtains move slightly. Shifting. Fluttering.

And then I smell the smell that was all Edward, because he kept that head and beautiful face so well shaven.

Sandalwood shaving cream.

I sit down at the kitchen table and I whisper like he is sitting right across from me.

"Edward , I know it's you. I'm not scared. Maybe I should be, but I'm not. Whatever you need to do to talk to me, in your own way, is okay. I'm not scared.

"Can I see you? I want to see you."

Nothing happens.

I ask him. "Don't ghosts or spirits or whatever sometimes show themselves?"

And then the cd player on the kitchen counter starts to play

3 doors down Here by me.